


Erased

by Sapphire_Tear



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandonment, Amnesia, Amnesiac Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Angry Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Anxious Castiel (Supernatural), Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Case Fic, Castiel & Sam Winchester Bonding, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Child Abandonment, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Confused Castiel (Supernatural), Damaged wings, De-Aged Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Not Being an Asshole, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Emotionally Repressed, Enochian-Speaking Castiel (Supernatural), Fever, Fire, Fledgling Castiel (Supernatural), Fledgling Gabriel (Supernatural), Fledglings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, French Characters, Friendship, God is an asshole, God's A+ Parenting, Half-Human, Harm to Children, Hell, Hell Trauma, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Micheal is an asshole, My First Work in This Fandom, Newly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Nice Lucifer (Supernatural), Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Raphael is an asshole, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Sam is a Saint, Scared Castiel (Supernatural), Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Sick Castiel (Supernatural), Souls, Sweet Dean Winchester, Tags Are Hard, Temporarily Human Castiel (Supernatural), Torture, Tortured Castiel (Supernatural), Weak Castiel (Superantural), Wtf am I doing, aaaahhhh, castiel has a problem with emotions, he's half human though (meaning he can feel some human sensations but not a lot), he's only human for a short time tho lmao, honestly idk how many chapters this is gonna have but imma wing it, illiterate Castiel, lack of affection, maybe just a little fluff? hahaha, no destiel in this, sad hours :(, there's just friendship!!, this took hours to write my eyes are burning, witch and vampire oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21716872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_Tear/pseuds/Sapphire_Tear
Summary: After moving on from Sam and Dean, Castiel decides to go on a case of his own. Unfortunately, the case goes wrong, which leads him to become injured, sick, and de-aged with no memories, making him think he's still living his childhood. Sam and Dean both are struggling with raising a de-aged version of their best friend and finding a cure for the spell that was put on him. When de-aged Castiel meets Sam and Dean, everything comes crashing down.
Relationships: Angels & Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & God (Supernatural), Castiel & Sam Winchester
Comments: 35
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

The clouds were somber, a black sheet covered the sky, nothing could be seen peeking out from the thick sheet. The glimmering stars and moon vanished, leaving no trace that they were ever there. It was like God and his angels had never created them at all. The night was silent, no person, animal or car was heard. Driving along the road, Castiel’s truck was the only thing that shattered the dead silence of the Wamego streets. The houses and shops were dark, the town almost seeming abandoned. Castiel knew the town wasn’t abandoned, he figured the residents of the town were sleeping. They slept all their fears away while Castiel went to smite the things that caused the town's folk harm. Every day, his grace had gotten more debilitated, which made him want to protect the humans even more, even when he was becoming one himself, Castiel still wanted to protect them from abuse. Humans had always thought angels were higher beings, warriors to protect them from all the evil in the world and bless them from the misfortunes in their lives. Castiel couldn’t bless anyone like he used to, yet he wanted to be the one to offer protection when sinful creatures with terrible morals went bump in the night. 

His truck came to a stop in front of a tiny ice cream shop sitting in the middle of two other buildings. Although they were there, Castiel hadn’t noticed them. His gaze was on the seemingly welcoming ice cream shop. The whole building was colored blush pink, covered in things that would appeal to a child or an adult who liked things that were considered cute. The shop was called Swirls. There was a bold, hot pink and baby pink ‘welcome!’ in one of the windows along with smiley faces, hearts, and miniature ice cream coating the other windows. The shop’s doors had been covered in police tape, indicating that the property should not be crossed. The shop had been booming weeks ago until the ‘outbreak’ happened. Adults and kids alike had been tasting remnants of blood in their ice cream, making them go mad and crave more blood. Wamego’s local doctors had claimed that the victim’s that had eaten the ice cream was just low on protein, and were actually craving foods like steak or chicken, but that wasn’t the case when the victim’s families had gotten killed, along with being drained of every drop of blood, before the victim’s that had eaten the ice cream went missing without a trace. 

The police in addition to the town’s folk went along with the doctor’s claim, believing the victims were just dangerously low on protein, commenting it had nothing to do with the ingredients in the ice cream. Some of the town’s folk were skeptical though, deciding to stay away from the ice cream shop altogether, leading it to be closed to be investigated by police. Castiel had seen the article about the ice cream on the paper, making him come to investigate it, thinking a vampire could have been behind the victim’s insanity. He needed a break from the Winchester brothers, he was tired of being their tool. Even after eleven years, the fact that he was still a tool never changed. He had moved on from them. 

Castiel picked the lock of the door before entering the shop, angel blade in hand. The bell above the door rang as he entered the shop, his eyes going from one item to the next, scouting for a threat. Castiel whipped his head to the door sitting across from him where a deafening crash was heard. The angel swiftly ran to check the source of the noise with stealth in his veins before a voice rang out from the silent shop. “Arrêter!” the booming voice pounded in his ears, making him stop in his tracks. He was unable to move, his breaths were shoved down in his lungs, his air being contracted. The door in front of Castiel gradually opened, leading two figures to step out. Both figures walked towards him, the smirks on their faces became more clear the closer they got to him. Castiel felt his blood boil as he saw their faces, they thought they had won, they thought they had caught him, forcing him to play their game, with little grace he had left, he wouldn't let himself stand for it. He prayed he had enough grace left to get out from the witch's grip. 

"Well, well, well, look who we caught in our fly trap, Elliot." The voice belonged to a woman, her voice was as smooth as honey, the french accent engraved itself in her vocal cords was lush. The woman's shadowed figure leaned towards his face, starring directly into his eyes. Castiel squinted in the dusky room as he tried to see his captor's faces. From what he knew, one was a woman, one was male. The woman's eyes held pure pleasure towards his imprisonment, making Castiel growl under his breath, rage more present in his eyes than before. "Oh, it looks like someone's feisty." The woman chuckled, her manicured finger making its way along the side of his lightly stubbled face. Castiel's eyes burned holes into her finger as she continued to touch him, his free will stripped away from him. 

Elliot grinned, walking over to both of them, putting a tender hand on the female's shoulder. "Roselle, that's enough, you're provoking him." Unlike the woman, Roselle, Elliot had no accent. His voice wasn't deep, but it was streaked with coldness, Castiel felt himself being stabbed with the icicles that coated the man's vocal cords, showing how bitter every part of him was. It was as if Roselle was under a spell when she stepped away from Castiel, her movements quick, trying to do as she was told as promptly as possible. Her finger gradually fell off Castiel's face as she stepped away from him, her high heels clicked against the floor, a sound Castiel thought he wouldn't hear again. 

"Oh, the great and famed Castiel, didn't think we'd catch you so easily," Elliot remarked. Both of them gave him their signature smirk, making it apparent they were making fun of him. "The Winchester's pet angel! I can't say I'm shocked after your grace started becoming nothing after a few... long... years." Rosella's voice trailed off into a seductive whisper the last line, alerting Castiel she was still jabbing fun at his faltering powers, making him feel puny. Castiel rolled his eyes as he heard their remarks. He wasn't amused at them poking fun at him, though he felt useless in his current situation. If this had happened to him before, he would have been able to break free from the spell much quicker than he was able to before, unfortunately, he couldn't now with his grace nearly depleted. The spell had left his mouth glued shut, his increasing thoughts left to float in his head. 

Rosella clapped her hands together, "Alright, let's get to the point. Elliot, make sure the spell stays intact, I'm going to drain what remains of his grace while you take his blood. Is that alright with you?" The shorter woman glanced up at her partner, she played with a curl on the back of her neck, whereas being careful with her elegant up-do. Elliot shook his head, instantly looking back at Castiel with desire in his eyes. A desire that declared he was ready for a new delicacy on the blood menu. 

The witch made another advancement towards his frozen form, licking her red lips in delight. She leaned her body on him, her fingers trailing along with his suit and tie. "Castiel, you'll be so delicious for my dear Elliot, and delicious for my spell, don't fret about not being useful." She kissed his left cheek gingerly, her cherry lipstick leaving a stain on his face. Castiel scowled at her when her lips left his cheek, instead of a feeling of embarrassment washing over him, he felt red hot rage at her advancement instead. 

"Grâce, ô saint ange, viens à moi et sois à moi. Sois à moi, sois à moi, sois à moi. Je Vous oblige à venir vers moi." The witch's accent disappeared under her current spell, her voice sounded natural. She arms lifted with passion as she spoke, her voice immersing through the sunless room. Castiel was numb with fear seeing as his grace activated on its own, him not doing anything to get it to flicker feebly against his palms, lighting up his bronzed skin. The pure pale light coming and going like a broken flashlight despite him battling under the witch's spell. The sweat ran down the angel's face, his heart thumping roughly in his chest, Castiel could feel every pump, every pint of his blood turning warm in his veins while fear rose. With the help of the gleaming light of his stolen grace, a milky light formed around the witch. Castiel could see her raven black locks, her ruby red lips, her fair skin, the red and white polka dot dress she wore, and the red heels he had heard click against the floor shining in his grace's pure light. She cradled his stolen grace in her hands like a newborn child, Elliot stood next to her, peering at the grace with curiosity in his eyes. Castiel had started feeling more human once his grace was ripped away from him, a wave of tiredness overcame his body. His body felt cold, his grace was his warmth, now that warmth was replaced with bitterness that wouldn't go away. The item that made him an angel being pulled from under him so easily. A stab of sadness made it's the way to Castiel's gut thinking over the fact that there was nothing he could do about it, he felt more useless than he felt in years. Castiel felt just as useless when Dean threw him out with the humans when he became human himself, forcing him to live on the streets. Forcing his mind to be crushed when he knew that he was on his own, the Winchester's and his siblings had disowned him. As an angel, he had things to offer to the people he cared about, now there was nothing he could offer but a hollow heart devoid of his angelic warmth. 

Following his grace being stripped from his grasp, Castiel could see Elliot stalking towards him from the corner of his eye, that same look of lust present in his gaze as he stared at Castiel, looking his new meal up and down. Before long, Castiel felt a tingle throughout his body, alerting him the spell was wearing off. He stood still for a few more moments, making his body look paralyzed. A determined fire sparked in his sapphire eyes at the idea forming in his head. This time, he would break free, the angel had pledged himself that. He wouldn't be useless, not anymore. 

Castiel's stern gaze broke off from Elliot's face the second he felt a hand forcefully grip his shoulder, his frozen fingers making their way through the angel's trench coat, causing him to repress the light shiver making its way down his spine. The shiver made Castiel try and shove flashbacks of his time as a human into the deep depths of his mind as soon as the thoughts came to the surface. He started to remember the taste of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on his tongue, the feeling of rain dripping down his skin, the feeling of hunger, tiredness, pain, sadness, lust, all of it came crashing down at full force. Being a human was full of misery, when he had become human, one of the first things he had wondered was how they survive earth, how they had the courage to go on. Even becoming a human himself, Castiel still did not have the answer to the question that plagued his mind the most. Elliot turned his head to get ready to drink from Castiel, his fangs soon growing over his normal teeth. As soon as Elliot was close enough to his neck, the vampire let out an ear-piercing screech when Castiel's blade rammed itself into his abdomen. Ruby liquid dripping from the vampire's stomach tainting the white checkered floor under his feet. Elliot made a gagging sound when blood flowed from his mouth, then dribbled onto his chin, staining his chapped lips red. Fear crossed the vampire's expression, blood lust was in the former angel's cerulean eyes, making them look murky, devoid of all emotion. The ruby liquid spread to every part of the floor, a red lake forming from under the vampire's feet. Elliot soon fell to the floor after Castiel had let go of him, the male drowning in the river of his blood. Blood coating his skin, blood coating the insides of his mouth, it was everywhere. 

Castiel glanced over to where he heard a strangled gasp from the corner of the room, seemingly coming from Roselle. A hand covered her mouth, her slim frame shaking from the fear of her spell being broken by the former angel. He could see the woman's facial expression clearly due to his grace shining on her face when she cradled it with a hand, the other on her mouth. Roselle ran away from Castiel, her heels clicking loudly on the blood-stained floor. Even when weakened, she wasn't fast enough for Castiel. He had come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, clutching her slim waist tightly. She struggled in his grasp, muttering that he didn't have to do this. He sighed, about to shove his blade into the witch's gut before she sputtered "Transformez-Vous en ce que Je désire," putting a shaky hand towards him, blasting the angel away from her. Castiel lost his grip on her waist when he was flung straight ahead, hitting the door straight on. Glass flew where Castiel was, the remnants of the door littered the floor, some stuck out from his back, blood soaking through his trenchcoat. The male groaned as he tried sitting up from his throne of glass, his blood getting on the clear shards. Roselle smiled to herself, joyful that today wasn't her day to die. She walked to where newly human Castiel was struggling from his body smashing into the glass and cast one last look at him before opening the door. A second before she stepped out, she felt a firm hand grab onto her ankle. Glancing downwards, she saw a bloody Castiel looking up at her fury on his bloodied face. She stood still, continuing to look down at him before she tried yanking her ankle from his grasp. There was no avail. Momentarily, her ankle was pulled and the witch lost her balance, collapsing down onto the glass filled floor with Castiel, glass shards dug into her knees. Roselle shook under Castiel's gaze, it was worse than any type of pain or look she saw in her long life. She had seen witches getting burned, to children starving, to people dying from a minor death like choking on a doughnut. Right now, at this moment, all those other deaths felt minor to the hell that was about to be unleashed upon her. She closed her eyes, accepting death and letting Castiel hear her last words. "Mon sort restera jusqu'à ce que Je dise. Cet Homme sera un enfant." Roselle smiled to herself before letting her eyes slip closed, her last breath of life flooding the tranquil room, she felt satisfied leaving the earth when she saw a startled Castiel through her closing eyes. 

Castiel sighed to himself before shakily standing up, gripping the counter as support. He had picked up his grace from the witch's hand, sucking his grace in his mouth, letting the warmth and energy flood through him, the pure heat started to fill his hollow heart once more. The angel started to loosen his body as he felt small amounts of his grace wash over him. Ever since he had moved on from the Winchester's, he had been staying with Claire at Jody's house. They didn't mind his presence there, they were thrilled he was there actually. Claire had missed him, and the other women were happy to see a new face. Castiel was thankful for a new beginning in his long-lived life. 

Since he had taken care of the case, the angel decided it would be best to clean up the evidence and go back to Jody's residence. That thought was cut short when he got a sharp pain in his stomach, making him double over in pain, clutching the counter once again for support while his other arm curled tightly over his stomach. The room started to spin, making him feel like he was falling from heaven all over again. His body bursting into flames, his body like a comet falling from space. The humans thought all his siblings falling was just a comet show, something to admire, but it wasn't. It was one of the mistakes that rested on his shoulders, words wrapping around his head reminding him that it was his fault, that he deserves this expanding pain in his stomach. His grace started to boil when it tried to heal his body when the spell started expanding, the magic outlining his whole body, getting more immense each passing second. Castiel felt like his body was going to explode. His hairline started to drip with sweat as he started painting, sickness taking over his body. The angel grunted in pain as another jab of pain in his stomach made itself known, he tried keeping his screams under control, hoping to not alert the sleeping townsfolk. Castiel told himself that he could handle his issues, that he would get through it all. 

Without hesitation, a blinding light came out from Castiel's body, outlining his shape, gradually shrinking it into something smaller, making his appearance look like he was a different person, someone who was younger physically, but mature mentally. Someone who had the eyes of a man who went to hell and back. Castiel covered his head with his hands as the light continued to surround him and shape his body. He screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to be over. 

Sometime later when Castiel could see the light had finally ceased from behind his eyelids, he cracked an eye open carefully, studying his surroundings, leading him to crack his other eye open when he noticed no one else was present in the shop. Immediately, something Castiel had noticed was how heavy his body felt, and how hot his head felt. His small, chubby hands felt icy, and he was swimming in his clothes. Castiel sighed, assuming he was turned into a fledging by the witch. Out of all the spells the witch could have done, the angel didn't think to make him younger would be top on the list. He assumed it was at the top of the list because kids were less threatening, in addition to being easier to remove from the picture. Unlike most people that were affected by a de-aging spell, Castiel was self-aware of what was happening but knew it wouldn't be like that for long. His current self would be buried in the deep depths of his mind, then how he acted as a child along with what happened as a child would come flooding back to him, leading him to be stuck in the past. 

Castiel flexed his chubby fingers before grabbing his phone out of his now too-big trench coat to call Sam, hoping there was a cure to his curse in the men of letters bunker. He hadn't completely moved on from Sam and didn't mind helping him when he needed assistance, Dean was the brother he had a problem with. The male declared he moved on from Dean and was trying to upload that declaration to the best of his ability. He knew all he was to Dean he was just a tool, seeing him now left a bitter taste in his mouth. Castiel turned on his phone before scrolling through his contacts and finding Sam's name and pressing the green call button. He waited patiently for the other male to pick up, becoming anxious as it had already gone past its third ring. After the fourth ring, the younger Winchester finally picked up. As he picked up, Castiel's vision started faltering, his body felt unsteady. He clutched his dark hair tightly to get rid of the pain.

_"Cas? what're you doing calling so early man? everything okay?"_ The voice on the other line spoke out, belonging to a very groggy Sam Winchester. Castiel huffed before speaking, for a moment, he couldn't eject his voice out of his throat, his words were stuck in the middle of his throat until he could finally spit them out. When he spoke, his voice sounded more gentle, less deep than it was before. "....Sam, there's a problem. I was transformed into a child by a witch. You have to help me find a cure before....." Castiel's speech drifted off, the dizziness worsening, his eyelids were falling closed, the male had no strength to keep them open any longer, his vision fading in and out, his body started staggering before falling onto the floor, the last thing ringing in his ears was Sam's frantic voice calling out his name when his eyes had slipped closed, embracing blackness. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! my plan is to get a new chapter out every Saturday or Sunday. Anyways, happy reading! :) (not actually since this chapter is kinda angsty but you get what I mean lmao) 
> 
> PS: I spent 13 hours writing this chapter and I feel XoX but :D at the same time ahhhhhh.

"Cas? Cas!" Sam's frantic voice rang out to the male on the other line, his panic growing by the second when he had heard nothing but a loud thud against the floor, accompanied by labored breathing. It had sounded like the phone was close to Castiel's mouth, making his struggled gasps for breath more coherent. Sam hadn't heard Castiel breathe very often, seeming like his lungs didn't need to be satisfied with air. It surrounded them all, the thing God had created so his creations could live. Higher entities didn't need that relief. The only time Castiel's lungs pleaded for air was when he was injured, or his grace was running extra low. 

The younger Winchester ran a shaking hand through his hair, fear overtaking him. He let out an unsteady sigh before hanging up the call and putting his phone in his back pocket, long legs hastily stopping themselves in front of Dean's front door, swinging the door open roughly, Dean's room door almost falling off its hinges, showing the sheer force of Sam's unkept nerves. 

"Dean!" Sam's fearful voice boomed to Dean's sleeping form, making the older Winchester jump up from his bed, immediately while pulling the gun from his pillow, pointing it at his darkly shaped outline in his doorframe. His peaceful sleeping form now a memory. Sam noticed the outline of his brother's gun pointing at him, resolving to make a move to soothe his older brother so he wouldn't get shot. "Dean," the younger spoke in a tender tone, as tender as his rising dread would allow him. "It's Sam, it's okay." Noting the presence of his brother, Dean deliberately put the gun down onto his bed as he squinted in the dark to get a better look at Sam's lanky form. "Sam?" his voice was grated with sleep, sounding deeper than it usually was. "What're you doing? it's like," Dean paused, looking over at his alarm clock, the dull scarlet glow of alarm clock illuminating his weary features in the process of squinting to glance at the time. "Two forty-five in the morning." He frowned as he looked over at Sam. 

An exasperated sigh came from Sam's lips, getting ready to inform Dean of their current situation. "No time to explain, we have to go, and now. Its Cas, he's in trouble." That alone was enough for Dean to rip the covers off his nuzzled legs, letting his exposed feet get slapped by the icy air of the bunker. Sam ran out from his brother's doorway to get a coat for himself while fetching the key's for baby, starting her up as soon as his now sneakered feet had touched the garage floor. Sam had waited for his brother in the driver's seat, not caring how Dean would jab insults at him for sitting in Dean's usual spot. There were only rare times where Dean had let him drive baby willingly, most times he sat in the passenger seat due to him claiming that seat years back. The younger pulled himself out of his thoughts when he saw Dean jogging towards baby, slamming the door shut when he had climbed into the passenger seat, seeing as he didn't care that Sam was going to be the one to drive baby. 

The concern sculpting Dean's features slapped him in the face, even though it wasn't foreign to see his brother in such distress. His lips were downturned in a frown, emerald eyes full of more emotion than Sam had seen in years. It was one of Dean's strongest emotions, a type of emotion that he felt for the people he held closest to his heart. Sam couldn't help but feel warm but concerned at the same time when Dean had that look in his eyes. His worry was strikingly clear. 

"Step on it, Sammy!" Dean roared, turning to his phone to start tracking Castiel's location. When Castiel left the bunker after his and Dean's fight, the angel had decided to turn off his location so Sam and Dean wouldn't be able to track him. He was serious when he said he was going to move on. Sam and Dean hadn't seen his face in weeks. He had only come to their disposal on rare occasions, rarely aiding them if they needed help due to him going on cases, being his own person, not bound by the rules of heaven or the Winchester's. He was free from their demands. 

Dean's fingers were brisk even as he was typing on the keyboard of his phone, his mind was racing, just steps away from receiving the results to Castiel's location. Immediately when he had gotten the answer he was looking for, the older hunter had exclaimed, "Sam! he's in Wamego Kanas at Swirls ice cream shop!" The younger hunter had only nodded his head, increasing the speed of baby, his blue-green eyes glued to the road ahead of him. 

According to google maps, it would have taken as near as two hours to get to Wamego, but for the brothers, it had taken less than thirty minutes. Immediately after they had gotten to Wamego, they had made their way to Swirls, stepping out of the car with brisk steps, guns tight in their palms, their wrists turning white with how tightly they held the weapons, their senses sharpened as they became more prepared to defend themselves against anything that tried to deem them harm in the shadows of the lightless night. The illuminating brightness of the stars and moon were no longer there to guard them against the corrupt creatures they put bullets in a day, after day. The light of the sky at night helped the brothers on nightly hunts, but today the skylight decided not to aid them. 

Their brisk footsteps came to a swift halt outside as they saw the wreckage of the ice cream shop. The windows of the right side of the shop were shattered, glass shards scattering the inside and outside of the shop, staying hidden under darknesses cloak. Sam and Dean grew more attentive of their surroundings when the front door was also smashed into pieces, crystals of glass laying out on the sidewalk in front of them. Inspecting the building's damage closer, they both swore they saw a body behind the shattered door, a puddle of blood glistening around the bodies lifeless form, almost making it look like the body was drowning in a pool filled with the iron tasting substance, letting itself drown because it was unable to break the surface of the blood-filled pool. The brothers tensed at the body as they advanced inside the ice cream shop, stepping over the body near the door. 

Upon entering, Dean gave a hand signal to check in the door ahead of them to see if the coast was clear while he kept guard, trying to search for Castiel. Sam gave a curt nod towards his brother before retreating to the door in front of them both, being mindful of the other lifeless body in the middle of the room. Dean saw the other body too but chose not to bring it up as it wasn't important, the only reason they were there was to find Castiel. 

When Sam's form disappeared behind the door, Dean took a chance to look behind the counter, his frown deepening when he saw nothing. Suddenly, a pained groan came from the left corner of the room, next to where the first body was present. Dean lifted his gun higher in the air with both hands, his feet automatically making their way towards the noise that sliced through the soundless atmosphere of the disfigured ice cream shop. Crouching downwards and squinting, he saw that the body belonged to a little boy with a bloodied trenchcoat, suit, and tie, the clothes drowning his little body. Tiny glass shards sticking out from multiple places on his body. A tall, silver knife tainted with blood lay slack in his chubby fist, then he saw a phone with the screen filled with cracks on the left side of the boy. Dean felt panic strike him upon him as he came to realize that the tiny body he was currently looking at was Castiel. Harsh breaths came from the boy, sweat ran down the child's temples, making his round face glisten in the darkness. Dean had recalled back to when he and Sam were in the car, he hurriedly told Dean about their best friend's condition, how he was transformed into a child, making his current vessel a child instead of an adult. His actual mental state was a whole new topic of discussion. 

Dean swiftly put his gun into his coat pocket, gathering the little boy in his arms before standing up and calling out to his brother in the other room. "Sam!" 

Sam ran out of the room, dread flooding through him when he heard his brother's voice call out to him with such urgency. He stopped next to his brother before seeing the small boy in his arms, immediately figuring out that was the de-aged version of their best friend. Even though he figured it out, he still asked anyway, "Dean... is that Cas?" his eyebrows scrunched together in worry the longer he continued to glance down at their de-aged best friend. Dean only gave him a single nod, shouting at Sam to move their asses out to the car to help Castiel. 

Once they had gotten into the car, Sam stepped on Baby's gas, not even needing to be told twice by Dean. Every couple of minutes, Sam could see Dean glancing over at Castiel from out of the corner of his eye. The whole night, Dean had only been seen with a look of distress and fatigue on his face. Sam had seen that look on his brothers face more times than he could count, but it was still unsettling to see. 

Because of the slightly better lighting in the impala, they both could see how ill the injured angel looked. His it looked like his skin was turning more ashen each passing second, his healthy bronze complexion being turned more waxen. The clothes he swam in became more scarlet each passing second. The only thing giving the angel a hint color was the ruby blush growing on his cheeks. If it wasn't for his labored breathing and rosy cheeks, the brothers would have assumed their best friend had died in the spell's grasp. 

Dean placed a tender hand across the younger angel's damp forehead, his hairline glistening with beads of sweat. "Shit," he muttered to himself, fear gripping at his senses. "Shit, Shit, Shit! Sam! he's running a fever because of the blood loss! are we almost to the bunker?" 

Although Sam's eyebrows rose to his hairline at hearing the news, he didn't look away from the road in fear of crashing. "Shit, that's bad. Don't worry we're almost there. Just stay calm Dean. We'll get Cas situated at the bunker." He had tried reassuring his brother, but with his own spiked nerves, he found the task difficult. 

As soon as Sam and Dean both made it back to the bunker in record time, they ripped themselves from their seats, bringing themselves to the closest room available in the bunker which was Sam's room. Dean had carefully deposited the angel's small form onto the bed, muttering reassurances when Castiel softly groaned seconds after he was put onto the bed. The hunter sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing his moist ebony locks back, trying to comfort his friend when his face scrunched up in agony. 

Every time he had seen Castiel so vulnerable, he felt like the world was going to come crashing down. Dean had known that Castiel had sacrificed his well being for him and his brother more than once which made him used to see Castiel so vulnerable, but he had never acknowledged his sacrifices or even thanked him. The hunter had regretted not ever thanking his friend for all the help he's offered him, the least he could do now his help the angel right now- when he's weak. Dean sighed while running a hand through his hair, waiting for Sam to make a return to the room with the medkit. 

A second later, Sam made a return to the room with a medkit, a towel, and a holding bucket of water in his arms. He sat next to Dean on the bed, depositing all of the items on the floor. The younger hunter took the small pieces of glass out from Castiel's skin, cleaning the cuts and bandaging the best he could before dipping the ivory towel into the frigid bucket of water, squeezing out excess water and put it onto Castiel's forehead, adjusting the position after to prevent the towel from falling off. Sam had sent a silent prayer to Mary, or anyone else he knew was rooting for them that the towel would lower Castiel's worryingly high temperature, and make sure he wasn't losing any more blood. He had prayed his grace would be able to heal his injuries. Dean had taken the thermometer out from the medkit, placing it under the angel's tongue, wincing when the results came after a gentle beep. Sam leaned closer to Dean to be able to see the temperature for himself. He knew it would have been critical judging Castiel's sickly appearance alone, but the reassurances he kept repeating to himself had not prepared him for the number on the thermometer. 

It was Sam's turn to wince when 104.4 made itself shockingly clear on the thermometer. Dean sighed to himself before turning over to Sam. "Sam, if this fever doesn't lower, then we might have to give him an ice bath to get the temperature down." Dean's mind flashed back to the time when Sam's body was dying from the trials, his condition worsening each day, his soul finding itself closer to knocking on death's door. He remembered how weak his brother looked when he found him on the floor of their motel room. Gruesome dark circles overshadowing under his eyes, his body moist due to the amount of sweat Sam's body had let itself drown in, his beaten-down lungs clawing the surface as they had tried to receive a breath of fresh air. That image Dean had to see of his little brother still made its way into the worst of his dreams, he could still feel the sweat that pooled in his palms when he had to drag his brother's body into their room's bathtub to get his temperature down. Seeing a member of his family look so ill-made him question if they would make it out of death's grasp. Even if he had that somber question floating in the deepest depths of his mind, he wouldn't give up on Castiel, he knew Sam wasn't going to either. 

They all had been God's toys for too long, but soon, they were going to write their own story. Dean had pulled himself out of his thoughts when he had noticed Sam was speaking to him, he was just too spaced out to hear. "Dean? you good?" The other hunter starred at him with concern evident in his features. The only difference about it is that the concern was towards him and not Castiel. Dean gave a soft shake of his head before looking back at Sam. "Yeah, I'm good. I just spaced out." Sam gave him a stare of skepticism but accepted the excuse. "Anyways, I was saying, I hope it doesn't come to that. I don't know how his weakening grace would react to that. I saw in one of the lore books that if weakened angel grace came in contact with anything cold, it could weaken their grace even more, or have long term effects on their powers. Think of angel grace like a candle. Once it goes out, you can't make it come back unless you replace it with a different flame." Dean shook his head as he listened to his brother ramble on about angel grace, showing that he was absorbed in what he was saying. "Yeah, then we should make sure he stays warm at all times." The older hunter looked over at his friend's sickly form before looking back over at his brother. 

A moment later, Dean went to go get an extra blanket from Sam's closest and put it over Castiel, hoping that would do something to keep his grace warm but bring his fever down. He decided to keep the wet towel on his head, hoping it would do something beneficial to his temperature. 

After watching his brother work, Sam took off the angel's trench coat to prevent his body from overheating. Upon taking off the extra piece of clothing, he saw two pairs of wings on Castiel's back. Determining from Dean's reaction, he noticed them too. They weren't as full as they were when they had seen them in the presence of shadows multiple times before, they looked like thin tree branches. Their ebony feathers falling off every second, small, puny feathers piling around Castiel's body. Sam didn't know if his exhaustion was messing with him or what he was seeing was real, except it looked as if his wings were fading in and out like a flickering star in the midnight sky. Looking up, sometimes the star's light could be seen from down below, another time the pure light flickered off, as it wasn't there at all. It looked like Castiel's wings had trouble putting themselves back in the 'ethereal plane' as Castiel had referred it to. Because of Castiel pulling Sam and Dean out of hell, it was less dangerous for them to see his actual wings than any other human due to part of his grace touching them both. If they had seen his true form though, they both would be blinded or killed like any other human that saw it. 

Sam and Dean both knew that they should do some type of research on his wings to see if they needed to be fixed or not, but both men didn't want to leave their friend just in case he woke up or became delirious because of the fever. 

It was as if the universe had been reading their thoughts when Castiel emerged from unconsciousness, the towel that had been placed on his forehead forgotten when it fell onto the bed. The angel's cerulean eyes starred at Sam and Dean with emptiness, flicking back and forth between the two brothers. There was no depth, no emotion like there usually was. They were filled with a deep emptiness, one that starred deep into their souls. Deeper into Castiel's empty cerulean eyes lay a deep fear that no one knew was there but him. Castiel hadn't known who these two men were, and why they were starring at him with emotions that he could not comprehend. He could see their souls thriving in their bodies, he could see they were good, how bright they shined in their vessels. It made him feel more peace than he had felt in a long time. Even so, Micheal's tactics kept repeating themselves in his thoughts. _"Castiel, if you come face to face with what is considered an enemy, smite them. Show them who rules."_ Castiel knew if he hadn't followed his brother's rules, he would be punished greatly. He panicked when he didn't see his angel blade insight, making him do the smartest thing he could in his weakened state. 

He jumped up from the bed and climbed under the open space knowing that the two men were too big to reach him. Castiel decided he would stay under the bed until they had decided to leave. 

_Micheal would find him._

_Micheal would rescue him._

_Micheal would heal him._

Castiel told himself this knowing that Micheal wouldn't heal him after he found him, the archangel's only goal was to discipline, punish, and train. 

_Micheal, Micheal, Micheal._ He prayed for his brother to come to rescue him despite knowing what would happen to him in the end. 

_Micheal, find me._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for being super late with this chapter and I'm sorry for it being shorter than usual!! I recently just started winter break, and I'm exhausted from midterms. I just needed some time to recharge. I hope this chapter isn't too bad! Anyways I hope you guys like this chapter! Happy holidays! (ps: I really need writing criticism lmao. Also, de-aged Castiel speaks Enochian in this chapter, and if you want to know what he's saying, scroll down to the end of the fic and look at notes. Thank you!)

Sam and Dean became taken back at Castiel's small form retreating under the bed, not making any move to come out. The brothers looked at each other with concern present in their expressions, wondering if the spell had erased their friend's memories as well as transforming him into a younger version of himself. 

They both crouched down onto the floor so they could see the smaller form of their friend peering back at them from under the bed. Castiel stared at them as if they were demons threating to hurt him, break him, or take away his free will with the snap of a finger. The angel didn't look away from them for a split second, from the look of it, he wasn't even blinking, just starring. 

Sam was the first to speak. He didn't want to frighten the angel even more by reaching under the bed and trying to grab at his small body or the dress shirt he was still swimming in, which lead him to keep his tone gentle even when the angel had a void expression on him, almost like he wasn't able to feel anything at all, similar to when the brothers had first met him. Sam gave Castiel a tender smile while keeping his voice warm to try and give him a sense of comfort. "Hey Cas, my name is Sam. I know you probably don't trust me or remember me, and my brother and I seem scary to you, but we're not gonna hurt you okay? You can come out, it'll be okay, I promise." 

Dean sat by as his brother tried to coax Castiel to come out from under the bed, he kept his mouth shut as he wasn't sure what positive thing he could say to a being as old as the Earth itself who lost half of their memories and was frightened of people that were trying to help him. He would help Sam if he needed it, but right now, he let him take hold of the situation. 

Castiel glanced back at Sam as he finished talking, his eyebrows were scrunched up as he pondered whether it would be a good idea to leave the bed or not. Sam could have interpreted the look like one of confusion, but he wasn't confused. He knew he was speaking the human language known as "English." Although it had been around for a long period, Castiel could only comprehend the language when it was spoken to him along with reading it in his head when Micheal or another angel needed him to, actually forming the foreign words on his tongue was a new trial. He had known a few English prases from being around prophets from time to time, but they weren't enough to get him anywhere. Castiel looked away from Sam for a moment before biting his lip, an action that looked unnatural on his youthful face. He glanced over at Sam one last time before crawling out from under the bed, his dress shirt collecting dust from the floor. Castiel had seen how bright Sam's soul was the more he gazed at him, the sight was endearing. It made him trust him, even if it was a blind trust. Sam noticed more of Castiel's ebony feathers falling from the angel's wings when he had crawled out from under the bed. The feathers continued to pile up on the floor, mirroring the amount of flickering feathers that were on his bed. He was concerned but figured it was because his wings were damaged from the fall. 

Sam sat up when he had seen Castiel come out from under the bed, Dean following along with him. The pure shock was present on Dean's face when he had seen what his brother was able to pull off even though he knew that was just Sam, he had a way around tough challenges that people brought to his plate. Sam was more patient than he was, more of a people person than he was. Sam beamed warmly at Castiel when he saw he was standing before him, starring into his eyes silently. "Hey, that's it, buddy, you did a good job." Instead of smiling as any other child would of, his head shifted to his left side, ebony eyebrows furrowing once more. Sam recognized this as a movement adult Castiel would do when he was confused about a human reference one of the brothers would tell him, though this made him unsure why he was doing it now. Castiel had appreciated the words of praise but was puzzled about why these words were being said to him, he hadn't heard words with such warmth coating them in a long time. Dean immediately picked up on the movement as well, breaking the ice and asking the question Sam had previously been wondering himself. 

"Sam do you think he forgot how to speak? He hasn't spoken at all since he woke up." Dean had wondered if his friend had forgotten how to speak, or if he didn't just speak English. He knew Enochian was the official language of the angel's and the first one they had ever learned in their infinite lifetime, which is why his eyebrows went up at the thought of Castiel being so young that Enochian was the only language that he had remembered how to speak. 

A frown made itself present on Sam's face at the question, silently thinking over the possibility that instead of forgetting how to speak altogether, he just didn't know how to speak English. "I think he just forgot how to speak English. When he called me on the phone to tell me about the spell, he spoke, but maybe what the spell is doing is erasing more and more of his current memories and replacing his current memories with memories he experienced in his childhood. It seems progressive." 

Dean's frown deepened when hearing Sam's theory, it didn't sound good, but it sounded like what was happening to their friend. While the hunters talked amongst each other, Castiel became gradually more impatient as the two hunters were talking about him as if he weren't there. He promptly looked over at the two brothers speaking over him, seeing they weren't going to be done anytime soon. They kept talking about his current condition, how he needed to be 'fixed'. He knew he wasn't broken, it was something Micheal wouldn't allow. Over time, it was something he hadn't allowed himself to be either. In heaven when something considered human shone in him, his brain would be rewired, so he would act how he was supposed to, a solider, an angel of the lord. Solider's are supposed to be bloodthirsty and empty, not have hearts filled with love for others because that's what the humans had, and they were fragile, their glass hearts shattered by the lightest touch or the lightest glimpse of affection. 

Castiel stopped their conversation midway, mustering up the energy to demand why they spoke about him, an angel of the lord, in such a way. He wasn't sure if the humans understood his mother tongue, but wanted to try to communicate anyway. ¹"Bagle gnay g camilax marb ol ca if ol'm ge kures? g gohol ol need de noan fixed, cirp ol'm ge broken. Ar i cor qaa ol trian ge allow de niis de pass." 

The hunter's instantly stopped speaking when they heard Castiel's smooth voice pipping up, both gazes turning towards him, a startled look marked on their faces as if hearing the voice of an angel of the Lord was uncommon. Instead of speaking back to him, they both whispered amongst themselves, figuring Sam's current theory was correct. 

Dean muttered to Sam, hoping the angel wouldn't hear him. "Shit, what's he saying? I don't think you or I can understand angel language. I think he's speaking Enochian Sam..." Sam was dumbfounded, he knew bits and pieces of Enochian and both him and his brother could tell the angel was speaking Enochian, they weren't sure how to speak it back to him. Sam's gaze flicked back and forth between his brother and Castiel, trying to decipher what the angel was saying to them. The younger ran a hand down his face before speaking to his brother once more. "Uh I'm not sure what he said for the first half, but the other half he was asking why we were saying he needed to be fixed, and that he isn't broken." Sam had an uncomfortable look on his face, looking to the side while rubbing his neck. 

Dean had opened his mouth to speak until he was cut off by Castiel. "Understand?" the angel stated. His pronunciation of the word incorrect. Castiel tilted his head once more, using the bit of English tongue he knew to communicate with the humans. It seemed as if they didn't understand his language, making him use what limited knowledge of the English language to speak with them in the best way he could. 

Sam had a sympathetic look on his face, being truthful about their lack of knowledge on Enochian. Sam shook his head, "No buddy, we don't understand your language, I'm sorry." Castiel had only looked at him with the same empty gaze he had when he was under the bed, his displeasure making its way to the surface, overlapping the emptiness. He shook his head showing he understood however found distaste in how difficult humans were. 

Soon after, a shudder coursed its way through Castiel's form, he wrapped his arms around himself, his trembling hands grasping his shoulders. Castiel forcefully shut his eyes when the coldness overtaking every bit of warmth in his body, making it flicker away like the flame of a candle, being snuffed out by the air. His cheeks blossomed a darker shade of red the longer he stood next to Sam while his body shivered. His cheeks had been red from heat, now it was a coldness that was attacking his depleted grace. His grace kept changing between hot and cold, unable to stay in one temperature. Sam's noticed this and sprang into action, remembering the dire effects freezing temperatures had on weakened angel grace. The hunter gathered the smaller body into his arms, shielding him from the frigid air. His large hands almost acting like wings to protect him from the dangers of the world. Human's hands were their own kind of power, their own type of angel wings. Sam rubbed circles on the angel's back, his hand and back contrasting in size. He stood up from the floor seconds after, Castiel gripped Sam's shirt to try to repress the shivers, his knuckles turning white at how firmly he grabbed the clothing. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay Cas. We're gonna get you warmed up and you're gonna be okay, alright?" Sam continued to rub circles on the angel's back, not expecting a reply. The younger hunter made a move to deposit Castiel on the bed, yet couldn't due to the angel's grip on his shirt being so stiff, he wasn't able to pull him off without harming him. Sam didn't want to hurt him as Castiel's body was already vulnerable from his weakened grace in addition to the spell and injuries from the fight, he didn't want to injure him further. Dean stood up from the floor to get extra blankets from Sam's closet, hoping to aid in keeping Castiel warm. Sam thanked his brother when he delivered the extra blankets to the bed, covering Castiel in layers of blankets, slipping under the comforter covers and tucking the thicker blanket up to Castiel's neck, being careful not to swallow his body in the blankets. 

Dean stood idly by the bed, not sure what else to do for Castiel since Sam seemed to have it handled. "Alright, I guess I'll go to the store and get Cas some clothes. I don't think it would be a good idea to keep him wondering around the bunker practically half-naked." Dean let out an awkward chuckle at the end, stepping out of the room to head to the garage to start up Baby and head to the store and get Castiel some more suitable clothes. 

Sam waited until he couldn't hear Dean's footsteps gracing the floors of the bunker to push Castiel closer to his chest, petting his damp hair. The angel appeared to drift off from the contact, his eyes slipping shut, breathing becoming even, unconsciously snuggling closer to Sam's chest. Sam figured the warmth radiating from his soul was the element that was attracting Castiel to him. The hunter knew that human souls were extremely vital to the angel's health if they were injured because of the times Castiel asked to touch their souls to get back on his feet. They would let him, but it was painful when he extracted his hand from their chests. Castiel had also commented another time that human souls were very warm, in a way they were similar to angel grace. Sam let Castiel stay snuggled on his chest, it was the least he could do after everything the angel has done for them the past eleven years. 

Sam heard the purr of the Impala as he stood up to go to the library, trying to see if he could get more information about the spell Castiel was currently under. Sam could see Castiel still had remnants of his fever lingering, but he paid no mind to it. He wasn't as concerned as he was before, he knew Castiel would get better because of the warmth of his soul as the angel had originally put it. Sam had found arrays of books on witches and angel spells the bunker had when he had gotten to the library with Castiel still in his arms. He hadn't even stirred when he got up from the bed to go to the library. Sam had made sure to keep the blankets wrapped around Castiel, though, he wasn't sure if that was aiding in him finding the warmth his grace could not provide. 

The hunter had made his way to one of the many desks outlining the library with stacks of books in his left hand, his right balancing Castiel. Sam had sat down at a desk and scanned through multiple books to try to find a cure for his friend. For what felt like hours of looking through dust-filled books, the hunter had found a book on different witch spells and hosts that sparked his interest. One section described the de-aging spell and the effects it had on angel hosts. Usually, a full functioning angel wouldn't be affected by the spell, but Cas wasn't considered a full functioning angel. While proceeding to look over the section with high hopes he would find more valuable information about Castiel's condition, his stomach dropped. 

"Oh no."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 = Why do you speak about me as if I'm not here? You say I need to be fixed, but I'm not broken. That is something I will not allow to come to pass.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this chapter longer than all my other chapters by making this 4,000+ words instead of the usual 3,000. I wanted to make up for the last chapter since I made it superrrrr short. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! also, thank you all for the support towards this fic! I appreciate you all! :) 
> 
> While writing this chapter, I found this really beautiful song and I was like :0 when I heard it because I've listened to some of this singers songs, but this one was jaw-dropping. The link is right there --------> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i39fan8ow-o if y'all wanna listen to it. I listen to a lot of her songs while writing because they get my inspiration up. The singer is called Ruelle btw, I forgot to mention that hahahaha.

Castiel drifted into consciousness, his hands curled around strange fabric, a warmth was radiated from under the fabric, bathing him in rays warmer than the sun. It had felt refreshing, similar to the warmth he had felt in heaven before his father had left, and Micheal drilled the tactics of war into the minds of all the fledglings, telling them it was for their father to come back. Emotions were restricted when his father had left and Micheal stepped up to the throne. Any glimpse of emotion meant torture, a type of torture he didn't want to reflect on. The angel's eyes were drooping, the warmth under the fabric lulling him to sleep. He fought to stay awake, the large hands on his back anchored him into the light, fighting to make sure he wasn't pulled back into the world of darkness. Glimpsing upwards, he had seen his body was being supported by the human, Sam. Castiel tried to squirm out of Sam's arm, a whimper escaping his lips thinking of the torture Micheal would give him at this kind of affection, especially towards a human. He had changed his mind, hoping his brother wouldn't come for him. Castiel started to change his perspective, humans weren't as weak as his brother thought. He felt comforted by them. 

Sam had looked away from his book at hearing the low whimper from the angel tucked away in his arm. He put the book down onto the table with his free hand, then using it to glide across Castiel's dark head, pushing his dark locks back. His eyes filled with gloom looking over at the more youthful angel, Sam had found out more about the spell Castiel was put under and was is in shock when he found out about the three different types. 

The first type was the least powerful, the third was the most powerful. Sam had looked through the first two, to which they both hadn't matched up with Castiel's symptoms. The first two types of de-aging spells described the victim still having their adult memories, to which Castiel didn't have. His eyes warily dropped down to the third type, a sickening feeling poked through the hunter's brain, the feeling went through him, saying this was the type the angel was affected by. Sam skimmed through the information about the third type of de-aging spell, his stomach dropped when Castiel's symptoms matched up perfectly with the ones in the third type. 

On the next page, it had said that if the victim was under the third type of de-aging spell, using magic to cure the victim would be fatal, the best way for the spell to come undone was for the grace to fan the spell out itself, reverting the victim to their original age. The catch was a victim under the third type of de-aging spell wouldn't be able to think about the bad memories of their childhood, or the spell would have a stronger hold, making the victim a child for a longer period, the greater grip the spell has on the grace, the more deadly the spell is. The hunter ran his free hand down his face, wondering if he should call Dean or wait until his brother gets back from the store. He mentally cursed himself for having such crap luck. 

Castiel buried his head deep into Sam's shoulder when he had stopped touching his hair and had resumed to looking over the types of de-aging spells, his face becoming hidden from Sam's view. He could now only see the back of Castiel's head, in addition to seeing his damaged wings up close. The more he saw the appendages, the barer they seemed to become. Sam continued to run his hand over Castiel's head, trying to comfort his friend along with himself. 

The hunter sighed, attempting to get all traces of grief out of his voice, "You doin' okay buddy?" He felt the angel shake his head, the frown that was present on Sam's face turned deeper. "What's wrong?" Castiel lifted his head from Sam's shoulder, his fingers still gripping into his clothing, as though he was trying to anchor himself. Woeful eyes bore themselves into Sam's, the angel's eyes looked worn on a body that was supposed to be young. Castiel was hesitant to tell him before Sam encouraged him it was okay. Even when the angel was an adult he never informed the brothers when he was injured or troubled, no matter how severe it became. "Micheal, scare." Just as quick as Castiel had looked at him, he looked away, looking as if he was attempting to hide the fear towards his older brother. Sam rubbed his back with the hand he used to support him, speaking tenderly to him, hoping to get his mind off of Micheal. "Cas, it's okay, Micheal isn't here, he can't hurt you. He's in the cage, he won't be getting out any time soon." Castiel stared back up at Sam with disbelief in his expression, like it was difficult to understand that his older brother was in the most treacherous part of hell. "How?" He whispered, eyes still trained on Sam. "Micheal and Lucifer were going to restart the Apocolypse, which meant the end for all the humans. Dean and I stopped them by opening up the cage and leaving them there." Castiel seemed to accept what Sam was saying before saying one last thing with his broken English. "No, Apocolypse happen." Sam wasn't shocked at his reply, he understood all the angels were in on the apocalypse, but he imagined that having the thought that the Apocolypse was supposed to take place and didn't, looked like it had bothered the angel, shattering everything he was supposed to do as a soldier. "Cas, if the Apocolypse happened, then we all would have died, the Earth would have turned into a wasteland, and there would be wars between angels and humans until the end of time. You don't want that, do you?" Castiel was dishonest, seeking to overshadow what Micheal desired instead of what he truly wanted. "Micheal want, have to. Not suppose know Micheal want apocalypse." Sam had understood that the angel was attempting to say that since Micheal wanted it to happen, he had to let it happen as well, but he wasn't supposed to know about the hidden plans of the Apocolypse. "Cas, just because Micheal wants something, doesn't mean you have to want it too. You're allowed to have your own opinion about things." Castiel had stayed quiet at Sam's response, not pushing it further. Castiel had thought the human was foolish, the purpose of being an angel was to follow commands, having free will and a voice was a concept that was only present in storybooks.

Sam broke the silence, using both of his arms to lift Castiel, placing him onto the table. "Cas, I have to make a quick call so sit tight okay? I'll be back in a minute." Castiel looked distressed yet stayed put, not showing how upset he was. The hunter took the book he was previously looking at with him and stepped out of the room, leaving Castiel alone for a moment. Sam scrolled through his contacts until he spotted Dean's. He pressed the call button, waiting for Dean to pick up the phone. After the third ring, he was starting to doubt his brother would answer. Sam waited a few more seconds, his mind growing more frantic with building tension. Dean had finally answered the phone on the fifth ring, a civil  _ "Yeah?" _ coming from the male on the other line. 

"Hey Dean, I need you to get back to the bunker soon, I found out something about Cas' condition. You almost done shopping?" Sam waited for Dean to say something, the younger hunter sensed his hesitance. Dean started with reluctance,  _ "Is it something good, or are we karma's bitch again?"  _ The younger hunter sighed at his brother's curt response, "I don't think this can be considered good Dean. Cas is really in the deep end with this spell." Dean growled under his breath, "Son of a bitch. Of course, we get Karma's backside, as usual. Alright give me a few minutes Sammy, I'll be back soon." Sam thanked his brother before hanging up the phone, slipping the device back into his pocket. 

The hunter went back to the library to see Castiel remaining in the same spot, he barely moved at all. The angel was stroking his left-wing, a dejected look on his face when he had starred at the sorry state of his wings. Castiel had yearned for their former glory, baffled as to what caused them to become so pathetic. Castiel whipped his head to where Sam was standing, putting his wing down when he had noticed Sam, his back straightening at his presence. Sam saw this but didn't say anything about it. 

After a few minutes, Sam heard the rumble of the Impala pulling up into the garage. The hunter felt comforted at his brother's arrival, he had come back to the bunker quicker than expected. Dean stepped into the library where Sam was after another few minutes, the older hunter going towards his brother, patting his shoulder with his free hand, his other hand carrying two bags of clothes and other necessities. "How's he doin'?" Dean glanced over to Castiel, care taking over his rough features. The angel had looked less frail than he did earlier, although witnessing his friend with no adult memories and as a child unsettled him. Sam glanced over to Castiel as well before looking back at Dean. 

"Maybe we should talk about that in a different room." Although Castiel was a child, he was still fully conscious of what was happening around him, making it difficult for Sam and Dean to talk about him while he was present. Dean shook his head, admiring Sam's clever thinking. The older hunter advanced towards Castiel, crouching to meet his eye level. "Hey Cas, it's Dean, remember me? I went to the store and bought you some clothes and other things I think you might like. I wasn't sure about what you like to do, so I bought some crayons and a sketchbook for you so you can draw or write things if you wanna tell us something. Sam and I are gonna go have an important talk, so can you stay here and draw me a picture? anythings fine with me. Draw a unicorn, or a sunset, or whatever you like, it doesn't matter." Dean added a light grin at the end, hoping that he had appeared more friendly to the angel. He had stood up again to get the crayons and sketch pad out from the flimsy store bag, pulling them out and handing them to Castiel while Sam watched silently from the entrance, forgetting that Dean could be so good with kids. Sam and Dean had stepped out of the room, the last they saw of the angel was him struggling to get the crayons open with his chubby fingers, blue eyes boring into the crayon box in unbreakable concentration. 

Sam had led Dean towards a vacant room, shutting the door when both men had gone in. Together, they sat down on the empty chairs present in the mostly bare room, Dean being the one to break the silence in the room. "Okay, Sam, spill, what's up with Cas?" Sam remembered he still had the book he had read before still with him and flipped to the page where he found the information about the spells. "According to this, there are three types of de-aging spells, unfortunately for us, Cas has the third type of spell." Sam pointed to the third type so Dean could see. The younger hunter took his finger off the page when Dean had set his sights on the section informing them about the third type of spell. 

Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder to see the book, his surprise making itself frighteningly clear when he had finished scanning the section. The older hunter's eyebrows scrunched together with concern, "That's bad, but not too hard to handle. We just have to keep him distracted and not thinking about any bad memories until his mojo reverses the spell." Sam sighed, seeing over Dean's mask. "Dean, y'know that's not going to be easy.... think about how our childhood went, I still think about the things dad did even when that was years ago. We don't know what Cas's childhood was even like. All I know so far is that he has a deathly fear of Micheal. But you're right Dean, we just gotta keep him occupied." Sam frowned at how frightened the angel was when he had brought up Micheal, the emotional vulnerability he displayed had drilled itself into Sam's mind.

Dean shook his head, glancing towards the door. "Alright let's go back. I wanna go see what Leonardo da Vinci junior drew for us." Sam followed Dean as they made their way back to the library, seeing Castiel was still on the table, and still drawing. He held crayons wrong, dangerously close to breaking them with his sheer grip. His fist turned white as he roughly colored onto the spacious sketchbook page, not even noticing that Sam and Dean had come back from the other room when they had finished their conversation. Sam went back over to Castiel, interrupting his coloring. "Cas, you're holding the crayon wrong, let me just..." the hunter went to touch Castiel's hand to adjust how he was holding the crayon, the smallest brush of his hand against Castiel's made him pull his arm to his chest, his legs and wings curling towards him, his face mirroring a startled animal. Dean stepped next to Sam, Castiel adjusting his gaze so he was looking at Dean rather than Sam. The older hunter picked up a lone grey crayon off the table, putting it in his hand, displaying how to hold the crayon correctly, avoiding touching him. "Look Cas, this is how you hold the crayon. You're going to hurt yourself the way you're holding it, calm down." The angel copied Dean's movement at how he held the crayon, mastering it fairly quickly. "That's it, good job buddy." Dean didn't touch him as he was worried Castiel would have the same reaction towards Sam if he touched him. In a way, that had just gained Castiel's trust, he didn't want to lose it again. 

Castiel stared at his hand in the way Dean had instructed him to hold the crayon, he let himself look surprised, considering that Sam and Dean weren't a threat to him. Sam and Dean stood by idly as Castiel was finishing his picture, adding final touches, making sure it was truly precise. Castiel had jumped down from the table and pulled at Dean's pants, striving to get him to see his picture. When Dean had felt the tug on his pants, he crouched down so he was eye level with the picture, Sam crouching down next to him. Sam spoke up about the picture, not entirely sure about what the picture was supposed to depict. "It looks beautiful Cas, but what is it?" Sam raised an eyebrow at the two messy circles, hoping to figure out what Castiel had drawn for them. He could sense Dean's confusion from next to him. The circles were immense, their size hogging most of the free space on the page that had been left on the page. Both circles were colored with red, black, blue, violet, yellow, every color that was in the box looked like it had been used on both circles. The circles were splattered with color, yet it wasn't in a bad way, it had only made Sam more curious to know what Castiel had drawn. Castiel flipped the page with his picture over, grabbing the royal blue crayon that had fallen to the floor to write them both a message. 

**_ It is your soul. They are outlined with virtue nevertheless are deeply wounded in the deepest, most vital parts. Out of the humans I have met on my voyages to Earth, I have never witnessed such complex souls. They are quite beautiful to look at.  _ **

Sam could see Castiel could write in English, his handwriting was neat and clean, his grammar was also correct, it seemed like his only problem was mastering how to speak English. Sam wasn't sure what he could say, seeing a visual representation of his actual soul made him think of all the things he and Dean had gone through over the years. All of that hardship damages a person. "Thanks, Cas." Castiel remained mute, the only sound coming from him was when he had closed the sketchbook and tucked it under his left arm, making his way out of the room. Sam and Dean had stood up off the ground by that point, stretching for a minute. 

"Wait Cas," Dean spoke up after he stretched, the angel halting his footsteps towards the entrance to the library in favor of looking towards Dean. "Do you wanna.... go to the park?" It had been late enough, the brothers had found him at around three in the morning, it had been hours since then, the sun's light was shining through spaces in the bunker, Dean had figured it had been nine hours since then. If it wasn't he wouldn't have been able to go to the store to get his friend's new clothes. Dean scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, hoping an angel would be interested in going somewhere like a park. Castiel strolled back to him, writing a simple yes in his sketchbook page. Dean had assumed Castiel knew what a park was because of the handful of times he had been on Earth, probably never getting the chance to have fun in one. Being an angel wasn't a fun job. 

Dean peered over at Sam to see his reaction at going to the park and was only rewarded with a small smile, showing his brother thought it was a good idea. Their goal was to distract Castiel, which is what they were doing by going to the park. They both had hoped he would find a group of kids to play with, and forget he was an angel of the lord, even for a curt amount of time. The mood was cut short when he saw Sam motioning his head towards Castiel's wings, afraid how other people would react to seeing a boy with wings in a public park. Dean mouthed to Sam that they could just use his trenchcoat to cover them, hoping that would be enough. "Alright, Cas, the clothes you're wearing right now are too big on you, could you change into these for me?" The older hunter held the grocery bag with the clothes tucked inside it to his chest, pulling out a thick midnight blue sweater along with darkly colored jeans and blue and white sneakers. The sweater went well with Castiel, the shade of blue matching the shade of blue that colored his eyes. They were bare, yet so deep at the same time, the message in them never-ending. 

Castiel snatched the clothes away from Dean, making is way into a separate room, closing the door behind him after. Although he was an angel, he still had modesty when it came to other people seeing him nude, especially if it was a human seeing him nude. After a few moments, he came back into the library wearing his new clothes to see the brothers in the same spot, awaiting his arrival. Castiel clutched his trench-coat, keeping it towards his chest along with his sketchbook. The coat had felt familiar to him, it radiated energy off it that comforted him, made him feel like he could be more than just a soldier, he could be something better. 

"Cas, do you know how to put your wings back in the.. ethereal plane? the other humans won't react well to seeing a boy with wings." Dean hoped he knew how, he didn't want to give Castiel layers of clothing to minimize the appearance of his wings, assuming the angel would be uncomfortable with the extra layers of clothing. Castiel had only given a slight shake of his head as an answer, shutting his eyes while a serene look washed over him, his wings shimmering out of view before returning a few seconds later, flickering in and out as if they were confused about which plane to stay on. Castiel opened his eyes, expecting to find his back bare with his wings back into the ethereal plane, but frowned when he had seen that they were still on his back with no intention of disappearing into the right plane. 

Castiel pulled his sketchbook from his chest, writing the brothers another message, shifting the trench-coat to his left arm.

**_ It seems I cannot return my wings into the ethereal plane. I am assuming this is due to my feeble grace. I apologize, moreover I hope you both think I don't require fixing because of this failure. I will train infinitely and will make sure I can put my wings back in the ethereal plane before the end of today, I can promise you that.  _ **

The brothers looked at each other regard for their friend, the message he had written for them was concerning, they both were reminded of themselves when they were under the care of their father. He was so full of life until their mom died, that was when he became a shell of himself, and Dean was left to be more than a brother. He was a mother and a father. A mentor for the missing adults in their lives. Sam admired his brother more than anything for that, he got to have a childhood, Dean sacrificed every bit of his happiness to give him a good life, a life where there weren't monsters and neglectful parents. It seemed like Castiel was more similar to them than he had originally thought. 

"Cas, it's okay, you don't have to practice, just hide your wings with the trench-coat, you can keep them out in the bunker, you don't need to push yourself for us. You're okay." Sam smiled at the angel, Dean nodding along with what he had stated. "Yeah, don't worry about it bud. For now, let's just go to the park so you can have fun with some other snot-nosed brats." 

Castiel gave a ghost of a smile to the two hunters, attempting to show his appreciation towards the two men, deeming it okay to show what emotions he had left towards them. He had questioned why he felt safer with the two humans than he did with his older brother or the rest of his siblings in heaven. Heaven was home, yet Castiel felt like his home was somewhere else, heaven was merciless, it was poison. A poison that ripped out everything that made him himself. He was picked on, prodded on, treated more like an experiment than an angel. He was a weapon, a tool, a mindless soldier molded to what Micheal desired. His brother Gabriel had achieved freedom when he left heaven, but that was because of his status. Gabriel had left heaven, some saying he was deceased and that Micheal had smitten him for leaving, others saying he made his way to Earth to be with the humans. If he was on Earth, the archangel got to feel the cool breeze in his hair, his taste-buds soaking up the diverse flavors of human food, and living in freedom, not having a care in the world. From the time Gabriel left, he craved to learn more about freedom. While he was on Earth, the rest of the angels were turned into mindless soldiers by Micheal, Raphael supporting the action. Castiel was furious when he thought about Gabriel, he had abandoned all of his brothers and sisters, he left with no regard for what would happen to heaven. Gabriel had followed in the footsteps of his father. Raphael followed in Micheal's. Castiel wanted to make a path for himself, and find out what it meant to truly be free. With the human brothers, he felt he could achieve his life long dream, no matter how long it took. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omggg I'm not even gonna lie to y'all but this chapter was super hard to get finished. I started writing it days ago, but I took so many breaks while writing it I didn't finish it til now. I guess that's because I've been having a really hard time mentally for around three days now, so I guess that's made me unmotivated. Anyways, I hope you guys like this chapter and sorry if it's bad ;; I tried really hard on it though. On the other note, happy 2020! the last thing I wanted to say is there's more Enochian in this chapter, so look at the end of the notes for the translation. Thank you!!!! 
> 
> PS: I kinda want to add a chapter (more of like a flashback chapter) dedicated to Castiel's childhood, but idk if I should do it or not. Thoughts?

Chatter bustled inside of the impala, Castiel listened intently as the brothers shared enjoyable stories from their childhood, realizing how simple human life was. They lived whatever life they pleased before taking the hand of a reaper, the type of afterlife they were lead to was then decided by the higher forces such as his father or archangels. In heaven, Castiel had heard how appalling Perdition was. Being led blindly into a place where torment is a common occurrence was something he didn't want any human to go through. When a reaper guided another damned soul to Perdition, questions pondered his mind as to what a sin such a weak creature could have committed to being sentenced to eternal torture. Sometimes, Castiel had thought that the humans damned to Perdition deserved a chance to do better in another life instead of their damned souls being closed off with a tragic end. 

Castiel pulled himself from his thoughts when Sam was bent over, snickering in the passenger seat, his movements being restrained by the seatbelt wrapped around his neck down to his lap in a protective holder to protect the male from risk. A hand was clamped over his mouth, making it seem like his goal was to try and shove his chuckles back down his throat. From the driver's seat, Dean smirked to himself, seeming proud that his brother was laughing so much. From all that they've been through, laughing was a luxury they hadn't gotten used to. Dean glanced up into the mirror to see Castiel in the backseat, his small form looking taller due to the booster seat he had installed in Baby. He was hoping they wouldn't get arrested for child endangerment which led him to go back to the store and buy the seat. Dean had hoped the angel was listening to the story, diverting all his thoughts from every bad part his childhood heaven threw at him. The older hunter sniffled before looking back to the road, continuing the story. 

"Yeah, so there was this really bad smell in Baby, and I mean like  _ really _ bad. Every time we went from motel to motel, dad just kept getting more annoyed because the smell kept getting worse and worse. He looked around the car, and even went as far as washing it the inside of it, and  _ still _ didn't find anything. After a while, he just gave up and put air-fresheners in it. Then there was this invisible force in Baby that kept licking us, along with climbing on us. It was disgusting. I still get grossed out by it. Sam was laughing when the thing licked him though, when he was younger he was super ticklish. Anyway, so then Sammy ended up finding a dead frog body in the back of Baby somehow, which was surprising because not even  _ dad,  _ one of the best hunters known to monster and man, couldn't even find it. After that, we chalked it up to being the spirit of the dead frog haunting us which meant it was time to salt and burn the guy's body. I'm glad about that too because it was all rotted and smelled like a bitch. I think out of everything Sam and I have been through, that story is still hilarious. Even he thinks so." 

Dean glanced at his brother to see him holding onto the car door as support, his back was turned to Dean, his brother struggling to gain the calm composure he had before the story was told. Castiel seemed engrossed in the story but wondered how a creature such as a frog could have made its way into the Impala without being noticed by the Winchesters. For the rest of the car ride, the brothers told more stories about a few good things that happened in their childhood that were worth speaking about. Castiel reflected on good parts of his childhood as well. He had remembered his father's love, Lucifer teaching him how to fly, going down to Earth with other angels to protect the prophets, those things are what he enjoyed the most. After Lucifer fell and his father left, Castiel's time in heaven became less enjoyable, yet he still liked to reflect on the good things when he could. From inside his chest, he felt what remained of his grace humming inside him, some part of him beginning to feel older, wiser than he previously felt. 

After another few moments of being inside Baby, they had made it to the park. Dean had become increasingly frustrated at the lack of parking spots. Although there were only about a handful of parents with their kids in the park, the parking lot itself was too small for a certain number of cars to be parked in the parking lot. Dean sighed before parking next to the curb, stepping out of the impala and out into the sun. The sun's scorching rays made themselves present on Dean, illuminating up his complexion, showing off the lightly dusted freckles on the bridge of his nose. Sam stepped out from the passenger side, opening Castiel's door so the angel could leave Baby to go to the park. Castiel hopped out of the car, shutting the door behind him, making his way towards Dean. Sam brushed a hand over his chestnut locks, making his way towards his brother. Unlike Dean, his hair color had stayed the same in the light, the only thing changing was the shade of his skin. 

Together, all three of them walked towards the park. Seeing humans of many different ages gathered at one specific place to have fun was so humane. An image of the human children letting themselves bathe in the sunlight made Castiel feel at ease. The children had smiles crafted from warmth, a type of warmth that came from the heart. They had gone from one item to the next in an instant. To the blue and yellow colored swings, to the yellow slide, to anything they could get their hands on. From the benches, parents were doing many different activities such as scrolling on their phones or catching up on the latest drama from celebrity magazines. Castiel had remembered in olden civilizations how humans used to worship God's, sacrificing themselves based upon blind faith. In a way, celebrities could be seen as modern-day gods, the humans doing anything to please those they admire, to be noticed by them.

Sam and Dean deposited themselves on one of the empty benches that outlined the park, Dean calling out to Castiel before he stepped into the children filled wonderland. "Cas?" Dean called out, still avoiding any sort of physical contact. Castiel turned to Dean when he had heard his voice, turning his head to the side, hoping to decipher what the hunter had wanted from him. "Before you go off into the park, don't use your mojo for  _ any reason  _ alright? if there's a snot-nosed brat giving you a hard time, you let us know. And don't take off your trenchcoat. Capiche?" Castiel shook his head, proving he understood. At Dean's demand, he pulled his trenchcoat closer, enveloping himself with it to conceal his marred wings further. 

Castiel walked away from the brothers into the park. Fear pooling over him as he suddenly became more self-conscious about his wings, taking into account what would happen if his trenchcoat was revealed, his secret of being an angel being known by every eye that starred at him as if he was a prize on a pedestal. Wonder, along with hunger swirling in the eyes of every human that got a glimpse at his disfigured wings. From when he had been in the care of the brothers, Castiel noticed every failure that made itself present in his wings. They were bare, brittle feathers slipping off his wings, presenting themselves on the sandy ground of the park. He peeked around to observe if any children were starring, preceding to bury every feather he could in the sand, the slack trenchcoat shielding his shorter body, making it look like it was the only thing he was dressed in. 

The angel had spotted a small table beneath the slide the further he had roamed around the park, watching the children play. Castiel made his way to the table, his trenchcoat lagging behind him, becoming tainted with sand. A refreshing sensation overcame Castiel when he settled down onto the wooden bench, the area shadowed from the sun. It had felt pleasant, unaware parks had such areas but felt grateful for it. His sketchbook was promptly removed from beneath his arm as soon as he settled down into the area, flipping to an open page to draw his surroundings. Castiel fished his box of crayons from his trenchcoat pocket, ensuring he was mentally on guard prior to sketching out what his eyes could perceive with the boxed crayons, scribbles developing on the vacant page. 

Castiel's eyes were trained on his paper, the same concentration he had experienced in the bunker making its way back to him, aiding him in finishing his current picture. Unlike that time though, his fingers curled around the crayons accurately, using reduced force to complete his picture. Before long, Castiel heard sharp whispering close behind him, suddenly to his surprise a rough brush of air smacked him across the face. He twisted his body around, diverting his concentration away from his artwork. His fingers firmly gripping a thick wrist midair, his knuckles turning white and the wrist beginning to disconnected from its blood flow. He peered up at the wrist he was gripping, seeing a palm that was turning redder by the second holding his box of crayons. Castiel redirected his focus from the palm to the suspect with his crayons. It was a chubby child with pale skin, and an anxious smirk, failing to attempt at how afraid he was of Castiel. He seemed off guard, unsuspecting Castiel would have known he was there and reacted in an orderly fashion. A boy and a girl stood behind him, all three children appearing more grown than his vessel had been. 

Castiel's frigid gaze bore into the older boy, his eyes mixed with anger and pure numbness. His grip on the boy's wrist only tightened, finally after a few seconds, his crayons fell from the boy's wrist, immersing into the sand, the crayons scattering unevenly. 

The boy that previously had his crayons shook his wrist in pain before speaking to Castiel, his voice stuttering with unkept fear, the boy's chest-puffing out to show he had confidence despite what his voice had said. "Yo, y-you're in our territory. N-n-no one told you that you're a-allowed here. Get out." Castiel let out an irritated sigh, former to standing up. Although he was shorter than the boy, he wasn't bothered. "Here first," Castiel simply stated. The girl that previously stood behind the chubby boy went next to him, whispering in his ear, a sly look on her face. "Why are you so worried? what can he do? we're bigger and older than he is. Stop being such a baby and do something or I'm taking over as group leader." The girl cast a look at Castiel as she stepped away from the bigger boy, going back behind him and next to a thinner boy with glasses. He inhaled and exhaled before continuing to confront Castiel, struggling to appear tough to the angel. "I-I don't care. Get out. There are three of us and one of you, what're you gonna do?" He gripped Castiel's sweater, pudgy fingers curling around the fabric, starring into Castiel's eyes. The angel lifted his arm in the air, towards the bully. A white glow flashed in the angel's palm, the light flickered on and off again as if it couldn't stay bright. Castiel blasted the boy's shoulder with the light, leading him to release the hold on his sweater, pained sobs ripped through the air. The bully dropped to his knees, his legs immersing into the sand. His friends had horrified looks on cross their features, their sense of calm broken by burning their leader's shoulder with red-hot angel grace. 

All three children ran away from Castiel, pulling their defeated friend along with them. The only indication of them being there was the drops of water implanted in the sand and footprints from their shoes. Both making the sand appear darker than it originally was. Voices from outside roared in alarm, additional voices joined in, concerned parents flooded towards the child that he had injured. Castiel hadn't felt empathy towards the boy, he was just an enemy making himself known. Even when he collapsed in the sand with tears dripping down his face, he hadn't felt concern, only blood lust. Castiel had remembered Micheal's message, his message was to be bloodthirsty. Castiel felt like he would be praised, even if Micheal was gone, the archangel was still his big brother, he valued his opinion no matter how much he was tortured for doing something wrong. He knew he wasn't supposed to use his powers, it was forbidden by Sam and Dean. Yet, he wasn't going to let a human claim victory over him. No matter how limited his grace was, he was still an angel of the lord. 

"Cas!" A voice roared from outside the slide. It was a deep male voice filled with anger that was targeted towards him. Castiel exited from the area from under the slide, the sun's rays shining on him like a spotlight. Dean's anger was prominent more prominent in the sunlight, his emotions drowning him like a storm, every trace of calm gone from his face. Dean dragged him towards Baby, gripping his arm tightly, Sam following along with them. "Cas! what did we tell you about using your powers in front of people?! I was afraid of getting someone hurt because of your grace, and that happened! I knew I shouldn't have let you wander off by yourself." Dean ran a hand over his stubbled face in frustration, Sam's quiet voice speaking up. "Dean.. give him a break, he could have just been defending himself. It could have been an accident too for all we know." Dean sighed, taking the hand off his face. "Either way, if there was something wrong, he should have come to get us, not set fire to a random kid's arm in a public park. End of story!" Before Sam could get a word in to defend Castiel's actions, the angel stared down at the the sidewalk, his feet kicking air around. He had felt upset about his actions, even if it was only a little. The angel felt bad about the two brothers arguing over his intentions. 

Castiel took off in a different direction, away from the disgusted parents, the frightened children, his disappointed human caretakers, and away from the park. Castiel's trenchcoat flew off of him as he bolted, his flickering wings becoming exposed to every human eye. The human child was relentless, the angel had thought he did the right thing by blasting him with what remnants of grace he still had present, yet to the brothers, he did an unforgivable act. More than anything, he wanted to get his body off the ground, use his wings to fly away from Earth to instead glide in the clouds, away from all the compelling thoughts. Castiel heard the brother's steps running behind him, their voices calling his name as they fought to keep up with him. He didn't want to stop to talk to them. He refused to be told what was right, and what was wrong by a human, no matter how pure their souls were. The angel took his chance by turning into an alleyway, laying low from the Winchester's. 

"Castiel," a voice called out. "Niis de ol."  ¹ Castiel perked up at the voice, immediately recognizing their true voice under the human vessel. The voice made him feel loved, protected. Suddenly a blinding light flooded over him, bathing him in gentle warmth. It was familiar, providing him with a source of comfort he thought he would never get to experience again. Castiel dashed towards the source of the voice, his eyes twinkling in joy and with disbelief. "Father?"

After loosing Castiel, Sam and Dean stood in the middle of the sidewalk, sweat dripping down from their temples. Dean's hands were stuck on his knees, the male was bent over and panting harshly, working to regain control of his lungs. Unlike his brother, Sam stood tall, only wiping sweat away from his hairline with the back of his hand, glancing for Castiel. Dean huffed, speaking between pants. "Sam, how are you.. not... tired?" Sam chuckled, answering even though he figured his brother already knew what it was. "Well, I'm not twenty anymore so I watch my cholesterol, and go jogging every morning, as you should be doing." Dean stood up straighter, his hands removing from his knees. "Yeah, I'm watching it... watching it go up," He huffed, rolling his eyes. Sam laughed once more, continuing to scan the area once more. "Do you think Cas is anywhere around here? I can't believe he ran off on us." The younger hunter frowned, thinking of how much they scared the angel while scolding him at the park. "I don't know Sam. But I promise you, we'll find him and bring his ass home, even if it kills me." Dean's mind wandered back to when Castiel had left, how much of a dick he had been to the man that was supposed to be his best friend. The hunter hadn't realized his faults toward the angel until it was too late. He drank, and binged, all just to distract himself from the heartache. Sam hadn't known how he was feeling, Dean desiring to keep it that way. 

Sam only shook his head, patting his brother's shoulder lightly, trying to keep him grounded. More than anything, he wanted to yell at his brother for frightening Castiel, but more than that, he wanted to yell at himself for leaving their friend alone. He had vowed to protect him, yet had failed which resulted in Castiel running away, in addition to becoming a missing person. He had remembered the way the angel called his soul good, how he snuggled up to his chest, sucking up as much warmth as he could. Now, that moment had felt like something fake, as if it wasn't a real memory at all. In spite of it all, Sam vowed he would do everything in his power to save his friend, his brother. He would come for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1= Come to me


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay just a quick announcement, because I wanted to add everything I could to this chapter, it ended up being 6,000+ words. On Grammarly, it told me it would take someone around 25 mins to read the entire thing which is a reallyy long time. In order to make the chapter appear shorter and to make it easier to digest, I split the chapter up. So chapters 6 and 7 are the same chain of events and aren't separate ideas, (if that made sense.) Chapters 6 and 7 aren't different chapters! just think of them as the same chapter, just split up. Thank you! 
> 
> PS: Yes, there's more Enochian in this chapter. Do I even need to say that anymore? lmao.

God's celestial light had lit up the area, providing Castiel warmth he hadn't felt ever since his father abandoned him, and Lucifer became a shell of himself. The warmth he had felt from the heavenly light led him straight to the man he had loved the most, the man that had molded him and the entirety of humanity with his bare hands. Gradually, God's celestial light dimmed before vanishing completely, leaving Castiel's body to be touched by the sun's gentle rays instead, replacing God's light. The sun's light had shone onto the tarnished brick walls of the alleyway and Castiel's damaged wings, yet the rays shone the brightest on God. The sun was just a star in the sky, but it was still aware of who its father was, and was aware of who brought it into the universe to provide others the same warmth God had given it all that time ago.

"Castiel, I'm happy to see you again," God exclaimed, adding a small grin to appease the angel. His sky blue eyes had looked more heavenly to Castiel when they had shone with emotion when he had revealed how much he had missed him. Castiel hadn't remembered the last time he had seen his father. From when he was still present in heaven, Castiel had been young, naive, not knowing how to fight like the true angel he was. The angel felt like it was for the best that his father had abandoned him in heaven, leaving him to face the wrath of his older brother's iron fist. The pressure his brother had put on him had made him mightier, molding him into the angel that he was supposed to be. When God had first left heaven, the first thing Micheal had said as to why their father had left was because he was disappointed, he had no patience to deal with the failures that were his children. The angels as a species were humiliating to him. After spending a fraction of his life training under Micheal, Castiel had vowed that if he had ever seen his father again he wouldn't disappoint him, he would be a better angel than he was before.

God crouched down onto the rough alleyway floor, starring directly into his son's eyes, letting him know his request. The celestial had kept his eyes honest, attempting to hide the twisted ending he had planned for Castiel. "Will you help me on a mission?" God was hopeful, no doubts were present in his mind when his son's eyes instantly lit up at his request, he noticed how hard Castiel was trying to keep himself composed in front of him, the act made him laugh on the inside. 

Castiel shook his head, his eyes twinkling at the thought of assisting his father with an important mission. Pride came over him at the thought of what his father was asking him. Castiel put a hand over his heart, answering his father in the most civil way he could. Although he had been speaking English, the language wasn't his strong suit, causing him to speak Enochian instead. "C fafen, anything lap g ol tabaan." ¹ 

God smiled once more at the thought of his story falling into place, "There's this human that I'm making a deal with, and until the deal is fulfilled, I want you to protect him and not do anything to hurt him. If he hurts you, let him. And Castiel, I want to let you know that I know you've been with the Winchester's. Don't trust them. They're using you. Don't mistake the things they're doing for you as care. Humans like them ruin the story." They ruin everything, his mind supplied for him. God had liked the Winchester's, he had found their story interesting. Out of every human he had ever created, he worked the hardest to perfect their story. The great depths of his mind reminded how well he had created Adam and Eve, but now, the Winchester's were his new best selling story. Although they were his favorite story, they decided not to follow the script he had given them when they had found out the truth about everything he was doing, forcing him to use every bit of his power to put them back into their correct places or create something entirely new with the two brothers. 

Castiel felt displeasure in his father's request, it felt off to him, but he knew the man standing in front of him was his father. He could hear his true voice, he felt his heavenly light wash over him, his eternal lovemaking his heart feel complete. Castiel had felt alive in his father's light, it had been purer than a human soul to him. It was brighter than any star in the sky. What his father had told him sounded like something Micheal would have told him while training him and his siblings, thinning their grace to the bone. Castiel hesitated for a moment, shaking his head to agree to what his father had requested him to fulfill. Earlier, he had felt thrilled that out of every angel present in heaven, a damaged angel like himself was picked to help their father with a mission of great importance. His feelings soon changed when his father gave him orders on what he had to do for this mission. The angel had felt unsettled knowing his suffering would be involved. Something inside him begged for answers as to why his fate was going to be intrusted in the hands of a human but stayed silent, shoving every doubt he had back down his throat. Questions towards the lord's plan weren't allowed, disobedience towards orders wasn't allowed, these things meant punishment. As an angel, Castiel knew he had to stay in line. 

At the mention of the Winchester's, the bandaged cuts that had grazed each of his body parts sting at the thought of the brothers. Castiel challenged his father's distrust towards the brother's, they both had pure souls, both shined with hope. Seeing their souls shine was what gave him hope too, a newfound hope that he could be something more than a soldier or heaven's pawn. Castiel knew his desire was too foolish to think about, especially in front of his father. If Micheal had been there, he would have been severely punished for any thoughts of rebellion. 

The smile God had before stayed laced onto his lips, only becoming wider at Castiel agreeing to what he had said. "Great! I'll bring you there, hold on tight." The celestial stood up from his crouching position, now towering over Castiel's smaller form. Castiel stepped towards his father, gripping his pant leg firmly while squeezing his eyes shut, seeking to be prepared for where God was going to teleport him to. 

Not even a moment later, a gust of wind came over Castiel once they had arrived at the human's house. A man who soared in height stepped towards the two from another room, a satisfied grin spreading across his face at seeing them. Castiel's form growing shielded at noticing the human. The angel figured that this was the human that he was going to torture him and the one he was supposed to protect. Castiel became more on edge when he had gazed into the human's eyes, instantly picking up the amount of pure hunger shining in his stare while he had gazed upon him. It had felt like the sea of undaunted hunger was crushing his airway, cutting his vessel's source of life completely. Instead of being an angel standing in a humans lavished home, Castiel felt as if he was a fish on the powdery shore, gulping in breaths of air even when he hadn't known that was what was piercing his lungs. 

The human standing before them looked well, more pampered than most of the humans he had come across on his time on Earth. Aside from the corrupt look in the human's eyes, the second thing he had picked up on was his jet black hair. Although his head was shaved, grey strands of hair had also made themselves present at the man's roots, showing signs of age. To confirm his status, rings made from gold were settled onto each of his fingers, an array of several types of jewels on top of the rings, the polished jewels gleamed in the dimmed lighting of his home when he had moved his hands. Another clue to the man's status was his polished suit, it had only been something Castiel had seen on humans with wealth. The man's darkened skin was clear, not one bump or mole present on his face. Seeing the condition and shade of his skin made him recall dark chocolate from many different periods. 

"Chuck, good to see you have arrived in an orderly fashion with my..." He paused before continuing, searching to find the right word for what he was going to say. "Merchandise," He eventually added. The man smirked, in a split-second, his sharp chestnut eyes flicked from God to Castiel's wavering wings. At that moment, the hunger in the man's eyes was more apparent than it had ever been, it had felt like he was drowning in the man's hunger. Castiel had felt off-put at being called merchandise by him, he didn't think of himself as a fragile object that anyone could harm for entertainment, or to reach deep down inside of to retrieve one of the most precious parts of him, the warmth that had always lingered in his chest when he had been molded by God. The angel had assumed his father was putting him through this ordeal to test his loyalty to heaven, or to gain something unknown from the human. Regardless of what he was trying to acquire, Castiel vowed to obtain it for him, he aspired to show his loyalty to his father. Even when he had left heaven, a determined fire burned inside him that his father would come back for him sometime soon. The candle placed inside of his heart hadn't gone out, seeing him now was proof that his lifelong hope wasn't in vain, Castiel's only wish was that he wouldn't decide to leave again. 

"Yeah, I got you an angel as you asked. Remember not to do anything drastic, just rough him up for a while, or take some of his feathers, whatever you want. I'm expecting two brothers to come here soon and get him, so if they don't come in an hour or so, you can give him the big finish. If the two men I'm expecting do come here, then just let them take the angel, I'll take care of them myself." God hadn't cared he was revealing all of the details towards the end of Castiel's story right in front of him, he wanted his hope to falter so the Winchester's would stop resisting and play their parts in his story instead. The only emotion he felt towards leaving his son with a powerful mad man was joy. God cleared his throat, "Any questions, or can we get right into the juicy bits?" The male shook his head, "No, I don't have any. Do you have the money I asked for?" God hummed, the noise vibrating through his throat. Right away, God lifted his arm into the air, snapping a briefcase full of money into existence, handing it off to the human as soon as it appeared. God glanced towards Castiel, completely aware of what was going to happen to his son. Castiel had a gaze that begged for reassurance, the celestial then deciding to give the angel the reassurance he had been craving for since they arrived. God could tell Castiel was hesitant about the mission he had sent him on. The only other move he had left was to nudge him in the right direction. 

"Castiel, it's gonna be okay. If you want to show how loyal you are to me, you have to go with Francis. You need to let your guard down." God reached down to rip Castiel's chubby hand off of his pant leg before placing his large hand on his back, shoving him forward towards the human, now known as Francis. Castiel stumbled on the way over because of his father's brute strength. Francis had clutched onto his arm when his face had been inches away from the ground, yanking him up before dragging him along to a different room with his free hand. Castiel's eyes bore into his father while he was being dragged away, the only thing he could do was let it happen. The last thing he had seen was his father smiling at him, his arms pinned behind his back as he watched Castiel leave, hints of darkness overlapped the light that coated his father's smile. Soon, darkness overshadowed everything in his father, including the pure light that thrummed inside his chest. Seeing a man that was supposed to be pure light encouraged his terror to crash down, what Castiel had left of his tranquillity breaking into pieces, piercing his thumping heart with rising emotion. A smile remained on his father's face, the image of his father carving itself into his head, incapable to see anything else. 

Dean ran a hand through his hair, his regret about scaring Castiel away becoming increasingly clear. "Damn... where could he have run off to? He's a boy with wings, he shouldn't be this hard to notice." the hunter huffed, putting his hands on his hips. 

Sam shook his head in return, unsure of what would be best to respond with. "Maybe we should just go get the Impala and go back to the bunker, see if we can track his phone. We've been looking out here for an hour, we haven't found anything that remotely leads to Cas." Dean hummed in return, figuring it was the best course of action to track his phone. Even when Castiel was an adult, he didn't touch his phone, from what he knew, it only collected dust in the pocket of the angel's trenchcoat. From what Dean had learned, Castiel had only used his phone to call him, or Sam. He also used his phone to answer calls as well. When they had first met they had used praying to communicate with one another before moving onto phones. Dean wasn't sure if the angel even knew how to use a phone besides to call and text on it.

Thankfully, it hadn't taken long to walk back to the park and retrieve the Impala. Both brothers were thankful that no one had attempted to steal their prized car. Throughout their whole lives, they hadn't had a true childhood home. The only time they ever did was before their mother burned alive in Sam's nursery, her body going up in flames as heat licked her throat, her wails of pain drowning in the crackle of the flames. After their mother had gotten killed, Dean hadn't spoken for a year. Their father hadn't tried to do anything for him though, their father became a shell of himself, his only care was to get revenge for his dead wife, not to be a father to their children, but to be a drill Sargent instead. Because of their father being hellbent on hunting for the creature that had drowned their mother in flames, the Impala had become their new childhood home. They slept, cried, laughed, did everything in that car. The Impala was never devoid of emotion, it was always filled with something new. Both brothers knew they wouldn't be able to handle the heartache if the Impala was stolen. 

After stepping into the Impala, Sam and Dean kept their mouths shut, the only noise that had filled the car was the gentle rumble of her engine alongside the soft breathing of the brothers. They hadn't bothered to turn on the radio, the only noise they had heard was the rhythm of their toxic thoughts bang against their heads, listing off all the things they had done wrong with caring for Castiel. They both repented their actions, knowing that they should have been better, and how they would show the angel that they were better by finding him. As soon as they had gotten back to the bunker, the aura had remnants of a threatening entity lurking there.

Dean had glanced over to Sam on the first step of the bunker to see if his brother had felt the shift in the air of the bunker, without even him to open his mouth to reply, Dean had gotten an answer from looking into his brother's eyes. Dean had shifted his head to the right, signaling to Sam that they needed to take out their weapons to examine the area for a possible threat. Sam shook his head in reply, silently agreeing with Dean's plan to check the bunker. As if they were in sync, they both had paced the same rate, along with getting down the stairs at the same time. They both roamed around the bunker for a while, assuming they were safe when no sort of threat was detected until Sam cried out dread lining his voice. "Dean!" At hearing his brother call out to him with such distress in his voice caused him to run back to the main room, getting there as fast as his legs could take him. 

"Sammy? What's wrong?" Dean urged, his voice filling with unkept concern, mimicking Sam's earlier tone. Sam shifted towards him, the hunter's face was devoid of color, his skin a deathly white, eyes wide. His hand's gripped fixedly onto a thin piece of paper he found, the top of the paper crumbled under the force he had on it, the hunter's eyes scanning over the words once more in disbelief. Dean leaned over Sam, reading the contents the paper contained. 

**_Hey guys! it's Chuck! I just wanted you to know that I have Castiel, or Cas, whatever you wanna call him. If you want him back, come to 1776 Maloy Court Lebanon KS in two hours. Oh, wait! technically one since you spent so much time looking for him and driving back. If you don't come to get him in an hour... let's just say bad things will happen to him. I sold him to a man that knows his way around torture. I gave him a load of money so he could take Castiel in. I think you can already connect the dots about what's going to happen next._ **

**_Bye for now._ **

**_\- Chuck (God)_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 = Of course, anything for you my lord.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next part of chapter 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone that read this before I fixed my spelling mistakes, I AM SO SORRY!! Grammarly told me I was all good, and I didn't notice any mistakes when I read through the fic to edit, so again, I am super sorry!! I feel like an idiot ahhhhh.

"Damn... we gotta go get Cas! I ain't letting that son of a bitch touch him." Dean cried, his teeth grinding with anger at the thought of someone else hurting his best friend. He stepped away from Sam once he had read the contents of the note, storming back off into the garage to ride baby to the address they were supposed to go to. Sometimes, he found it hard to believe that the man that was supposed to be God could be such an asshole. If his worshippers had met him face to face, Dean knew they probably wouldn't worship him anymore. Sam used to believe in angels, even when Castiel pulled him from the fiery flames of hell, Sam's belief that a higher force existed increased, no matter how many times Dean said he didn't have faith such an entity could exist. After being connected to God by a gunshot wound for so long, Dean had figured his brother wouldn't want to believe in anything else besides achieving their own free will. 

Sam pulled himself out of his trance, clasping onto his brother's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks before he left towards the garage. "Dean, we can't just go in there guns blazing, we have to have a solid plan so we can stop Chuck and get Cas back. Do you have a deathwish?" Dean stood down, adding to what his brother had to say. "We can make a plan in Baby then, we only have an hour left! we gotta go, Sam! I said I wasn't going to let Chuck touch Cas, and I meant that!" Sam sighed woefully, he got where his brother was coming from but didn't want to do anything idiotic that jeopardizes Castiel's chances of coming back alive. "Fine. We can't do anything stupid though." Dean shook his head in agreement, storming off into the garage, looking over his shoulder to see if his brother was following him. When the hunter saw his brother was dragging behind him, in addition to carrying the note in his hand. Dean reassured Sam earlier that they would get their best friend back, but wasn't sure if his brother had believed his claim. 

In Baby, the brothers had discussed the best course of action, deciding it would be best to force themselves in, not be loud due to Chuck possibly being there. They felt bad that Castiel, one of the most sacrificing people out there had to be paired up with Chuck as his dick dad. They figured Chuck was going to be trying to rip away their hope, try to put them back in their place by torturing their best friend. As Dean drove, Sam read out the address and directions to him, on there way to get Castiel and prepare for anything Chuck had decided to throw at them. 

"Stand over there," Francis commanded, motioning Castiel to the middle of the room. Francis had dragged Castiel to a hidden room in his manor, a room that most people were unaware of. He had security in his manor, but only kept two of them outside, the rest he sent home due to Chuck's request. Chuck had promised to pay him off more if he followed his demands. Francis was already wealthy from his job, yet, he thought of how much happier he would be the more money he made for himself. Francis was known for killing, torturing, and selling off supernatural creatures. It was a black market job since most thought supernatural creatures were tale tails, and he had known Chuck, his client was a supernatural entity himself, but didn't care about that since he had money and an angel, both were what he wanted. 

Castiel stood in the middle of the room as commanded, silver chains with cuffs at the ends dangled from the ceiling in the middle of the murky room, the cuffs were big enough to fit around Castiel's wrists. The chains were lined with Enochian runes, preventing him from getting out from the chains or using any kind of power. "Castiel, was it? Chuck told me what you're called. I didn't say it earlier, but I haven't used this room in years. I have separate rooms for each supernatural creature I torture along the corners of my manor, except I haven't been able to use this one in a while. Most people don't capture angels in their spare time," Francis chuckled to himself, "Angels of any kind are limited these days. I heard the fall from heaven decreased their numbers." Francis didn't expect a reply from Castiel after that. When Chuck had first contacted him, he commented that the angel he was bringing was not fluent in English. He could understand, read, and write in English, his problem was being able to speak the language. "Take off your shirt unless you want it to get ruined. Keep your pants on." Francis put the briefcase filled with money on a far corner of the room, once both of his hands were free, he brought a table supplied with medical equipment in addition to an angel blade. The blade would have shone in the sunlight with elegance, but since the only window in the room was covered, it looked dull. 

Castiel had growled following their arrival to Francis' torture room, and at the man attempting to make conversation with him. Castiel didn't want to believe anything his torturer was saying, he hadn't heard anything about the angels falling, or their numbers decreasing in heaven. The angel loathed how feeble his grace had become. He could sense his power slipping away, Castiel knew he would become a human sooner than later. Nothing could change that fate. At Francis' next command, he slipped off his sweater, putting it away from him as he assumed there would be bloodshed from his torture. Upon taking off his sweater, his bandaged chest was exposed to Francis. Multiple cuts were seen outlining his chest, some were deeper than others. The ones that were deeper required stitches, the less deep ones were bandaged. The brothers had even put bandages on the cuts that needed to be stitched to give them extra security. Cuts were also seen outlining his upper shoulders and arms, showing the true severity of his injuries. Francis didn't have the care to ask what happened to his chest, he just wanted to get the job that Chuck had paid him for done with. 

Castiel knew what had to be done next, causing him to grab onto the chains to the best of his ability, putting the cuffs around his thin wrists. Francis caught on with what he was doing, he shoved a key into the cuffs, a light click heard from the cuffs when they had snapped together. During all the times Micheal had gotten him fixed for feeling emotion or anything else he considered diseased, he had always closed his eyes when the drill infiltrated inside his skull, drilling out all the imperfections that had made him similar to a human. Castiel had always felt numbed after the fixing. The pain that came with it still lingered in his body, but what the drill took away was something he never remembered. The angel could never tell what part of him was missing after his fixing. 

When he was lifted from the ground by the chains was the time he closed his eyes, letting himself be afflicted with the sting of the angel blade. The sting of pain was rapid, Francis hadn't told him when he was going to start which made the stabs of pain more unexpected. Castiel had felt blood gush out from where the angel blade was cutting him, cutting so deeply in some places that he could hear the ring of his grace seeping out from the wound, the luminous light shining behind his eyelids. No matter how much Castiel squeezed them together, the shining light was still noticeable. 

Castiel bit back a cry when Francis' blade went towards the wounds that Sam and Dean had fixed, the tip of the knife penetrating the surface of the cuts, the knife dyeing the white bandages a deep red, the darkened color gradually spreading over the white. The wounds reopening made more blood seep out from the places Francis reopened or extended. Castiel kept his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see the sea of blood-forming under his moist bandages. 

"Castiel, why don't you scream? that would make this so much easier," Francis insisted, running his finger along the front blood-stained angel blade. Castiel struggled to get the words out, his form trembling from anxiety and blood loss. When he had gotten the words out, his speech was shaky, his grasp over the English language becoming clear. "Do for father, am loyal to him. Resist," Castiel's arms felt light from being held up by the chains, the limbs losing blood flow. Francis could tell what he had been saying that he was loyal to his father which is why he let himself be subjected to endless torture. To him, angels were like robots, only good for following commands that were laid out before them. Since he said he was trying to resist, Francis fought back harder, rewarding him with more pain. 

Francis cut into his left-wing, the appendage fading in and out of the room. The only reason he had thought to why it was doing this was that it couldn't put itself back into the ethereal plane, leading it to have trouble deciding which plane it should reside in. The wing was blurred making it difficult for him to see but kept his vision straight to make a precise cut into the appendage. From glancing at the wings, Francis noticed a white feather tucked inside the array of blackened feathers. The sight caught his eye. He had assumed that black was the natural color of his wings which didn't seem to be the case. Francis forcefully plucked the feather from the wing, pocketing it to add to his collection of supernatural artifacts or use for a spell. 

Castiel shrieked, his true voice bleeding through the voice of his vessel. The light bulbs in the room shattering at the sheer amount of power in his voice, Francis staggered back at hearing it, clutching his ears until it had faded away. Castiel's eyes shot open at hearing himself, azure eyes shining with tears. The angel fought to keep them at bay. He never wanted to feel these things. The feelings were so strong it had felt like his heart was being stabbed with them. Castiel knew his father, and Micheal would be disappointed in him but didn't care about what his fate would be, he just wanted his father to tell the human to stop. He knew he was coming to his breaking point, it would be soon when he shattered completely, every broken piece of him unable to be glued back together. 

Francis hummed to himself, now knowing the angel's wings were his weakest point. Reaching over to his tray, he grabbed a tissue that was settled onto it, cleaning away leftover blood. "Do you want to resist now Castiel?" 

Afterward, Sam and Dean had finally made it to the address where Chuck was keeping their friend. They had made it to a large, rectangular black house with large glass windows everywhere they looked. It had looked as if someone high with status had been living in the house, putting Sam and Dean on edge with who they were going to be dealing with. They had parked the Impala far away from the house when they had noticed security standing outside. They planned to sneak in the house as unnoticed as possible, not go in and get themselves noticed like they had a death wish. 

In the bunker, they had found more weapons than they had ever seen. In the trunk of the Impala, they had weapons they used ever since they were children, but in the bunker, the item they found the most useful was the tranquilizer darts. Both brothers brushed off their jeans, putting their knives in guns in their pants. Earlier when Castiel had changed clothes to go to the park, Sam and changed his clothes, along with Dean changing his before he had gone to the store. 

Sam readied a tranquilizer dart while Dean readied another, Sam shutting one of his eyes to aim it at the neck of one of the guards standing next to the front door. They both hid by a bush to prevent themselves from being discovered by the guards. Sam peered over at Dean to get a signal. As soon as he had gotten one, they both threw their darts at the guards, both sticking themselves into their necks successfully. The hunter's lingered in the bushes, waiting for the guards to feel the effects of the darts course through their systems. After a few moments, they both succumbed to the effects of the darts, their bodies staggering before they had fallen victim to sleep, their bodies slack on the ground. They had taken their chance, running into the house with their guns out, ready to shoot anyone that posed trouble to them on sight. 

"Hey, guys! made it just in time," A man appeared in front of them, a sly look plastered across his face. "Chuck," Dean growled, pointing his gun at the male. The hunter stepped towards him, lowering his gun in favor of grabbing his collar, uncontrolled fury present in his gaze. A storm raged in his rough emerald eyes, the forest that was in his eyes burning down within seconds. "What did you do to Cas you son of a bitch?!" Dean growled, the grip on his collar stiffening. "Woah, Woah, take it easy big guy. I just subjected him to a bit of torture," God's look darkened, muttering a coherent threat to Dean after. "If you don't stop resisting, and don't start playing your parts in my story, the same thing that happened to him will happen to you and your brother. You will feel my wrath, Dean Winchester," Before Dean could get another word in, the celestial disappeared, leaving the two men alone in the room. 

Dean growled once more, his fists clenching, trembling with anger. More than anything, the male wanted to punch something but kept himself together, knowing his anger would do nothing for finding Castiel. Dean gave Sam another head signal, alerting him to check all the rooms they could see until they found Castiel. As if the universe had been listening, they both heard a high pitched scream coming from an unknown room from down the hall. The hunter's jogged to the room where they could hear the cry, booting the door down to get into the room they had heard the noise in. Upon entering the room, they saw two people. One was a child hanging from chains on the ceiling, an Enochian binding spell engrained onto the cuffs attached to the chains, and the other was a tall dark-skinned male with a sadistic gaze in his eye, the look jumping out at them when they had noticed the knife he held in his hand.

"Ah! the Winchester's! just in time. I was about to move on to the mental torture and then onto slaying him. If you hadn't arrived in.." Francis paused to fish out a watch from his pocket, the time boldly displayed on the object. "Twenty-seven minutes your angel would have been dead," Francis glanced over at Castiel, observing that he had fallen into a state of unconsciousness, his body limp, strangled breaths coming from his chapped lips. Unlike before, his eyes were shut because he had passed out under the grasp of pain, not because he didn't want to see the blood gushing out from his wounds like before. 

Sam stepped over to Francis, punching him square in the face, the man's head moving to the side at the impact, blood gushing out from his mouth, dribbling onto his chin. "You really are a son of a bitch, you know that? why did you think it was a good idea to torture someone that did nothing wrong, much less a kid! you have no shame!" Francis smirked, wiping the blood that had dribbled onto his chin with his ringed hand. As he was about to get another word out, Dean punched him in the same spot, the male falling to the ground. More blood came out from his mouth, drops of it falling onto the ground, tainting the ground floor with dots of red. 

While Sam went to get Castiel down from the ceiling, Dean bent down, pulling up Francis by his shirt. "Now, are there any medical supplies in this dump, or am I gonna have to beat the answer out of you?" Dean smirked, his stare filled with lust at beating the man that hurt his best friend into the ground, making him crawl like a maggot in exchange for torturing one of the remaining members of his family. Francis starred into Dean's eyes, not at all intimidated by his words. "I was prepared in case you came, so there are some medical supplies in the cabinet right there," Francis pointed over to the location with his finger, Dean's gaze following where his finger lead him. Before retreating to get the supplies, Dean promised the man something, a promise he would never break. "Now listen here. I don't care if you're rich, or you have security to protect you, if you torture another one of my family members or if I even see your face anywhere near here again, I ain't hesitating to give you pain that's worse than death. I ain't breaking that promise either," Dean launched the man's body back onto the floor, holding himself back from hurting him more to go check if Sam had gotten Castiel out from the chains. He had known his brother carried bobby pins, so the effort wouldn't be difficult. 

Fortunately, Sam had been able to rescue Castiel from the chains with just bobby pins. Castiel unconsciously groaned at being moved from his position, Sam's gentle hands careful not to jostle his injuries further. The hunter's hands moved across his hair, murmuring words of encouragement. Dean had come back a second later with the medical supplies, popping open the box to position everything on the floor. The brothers both went through the medical supplies, picking out what they thought was needed to heal Castiel from his injuries. 

It had been a long ordeal, but once again they had stitched, cleaned, and bandaged every wound on his body. It had been like finding an object made of glass broken, and gluing the shards back into their original place. After they had been done with using the medical supplies, they left them scattered on the floor, uncaring about what would happen to the supplies next. Upon leaving the house, they had noticed the security guards that had been watching over the property had still been out cold. Sam scoffed, stepping over them as Dean had before. 

Outside of the Impala, Dean threw Sam the keys, slipping into the back seat instead of at the driver's seat. "Dean...?" Sam inquired, a concerned look coming over his features. "You can drive Sam, give me Cas. I haven't been there for him lately, and because of me, he got hurt. I know how to help him, it's something mom did for me before the fire. I think it'll work on him too." Sam was hesitant, yet complied with what Dean wanted. He handed Castiel to him and moved into the driver's seat, starting up the Impala. A gentle purr of her engine alerted them she was ready to hit the road. Sam drove away from the house, intrusting Dean with Castiel. The hunter hadn't been sure what his brother was going to do, his thoughts quieting when a rich, mellow voice added noise to the silent air of the Impala, singing a song he hadn't known the words to. 

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad, Take a sad song and make it better, remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better..."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO! LAST CHAPTER! if I'm being honest, I had a whole essay here thanking you all for the support, but I accidentally deleted it so RIP to that. I'm just going to say what I remember from the heart... and mind. I just wanna say thank you to all the people that have commented, gave my fic kudos, bookmarked my fic, and have read it! Honestly, I haven't really had a fic with this much support before, so I am in awe about how many people have supported this one, and how far it was able to get because of that support. Basically, to sum it up I wanna say this fic wouldn't have gotten anywhere if I wasn't being supported by you lovely people, so thank you SO SO much for being here! I love you all! 
> 
> Although I'm done with this fic, I have two full memos full of supernatural/other fandom fic ideas, so in a couple of weeks or in a month or two ya girl is gonna make a comeback with another fic. I also just wanna say I know the chapter is a bit short... and it was later than usual... but I was really struggling with writing this chapter I'm not even gonna lie. I was kinda having some writer block along with writer doubts (I was like 'oh nooo can I actually write or am I just playing myself?? is my writing good enough??' haha) while writing this, but I managed to pull through and produce this final product! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading! see you guys on the flip side!
> 
> PS: If anyone has some good no relationship supernatural fics, please send them my way (my Instagram is @sapphire_tear) because I've run out of fics to read. Thank you again! MWAH. Wait on another note, I mainly made this fic so I could expand on Castiel's past a little, but I don't think I expanded enough, so I'm thinking about writing a series of fics that talk about Castiel's past (or at least what I think his past was like.) If anyone has an opinion on that, please let me know as well. If I do it or not, you'll known lmao. Now see you guys on the flip side fr!

"Cas," Dean cooed, the angel's name rolling smoothly off of his tongue, "Relax, I ain't gonna hurt you like that son of a bitch did." Similar to how he was in the Impala, the hunter had kept his voice tender to avoid Castiel becoming frightened of him. In the Impala, Dean had sung for Castiel, even when he was asleep, his body in a fetal position on his lap, almost as if he was trying to protect himself from the horrors God inflicted on him. Although Castiel was originally an adult turned into a child, it still felt wrong to try and break someone so young, shattering every part of their being like fragile glass. In a way, Dean had known what Castiel's burden was like. When his mother had died at the age of four, Dean had the whole world on his shoulders. As soon as he ran out of his flaming house with his baby brother secure in his arms, John stopped being a father from then on. Dean became everything his father couldn't be. A mother, a father, a brother, and a son. Because of his mother's death, his childhood was ripped away from him, everything he had was given to Sam, including what was left of his innocence. At that time, it had almost felt like his father was gone too. Dean figured that was similar to what Castiel had been feeling, it could have felt like he had lost his father too, no matter how deadbeat both of their parents had been.

As soon as they had gotten back to the bunker, Sam had respected his earlier decision about staying with Castiel, leading his brother to take a nap in his bedroom, Sam urging to wake him if he had needed anything. Dean had consoled his brother he would be fine, instructing him to go to sleep. For all the time Castiel's presence had been absent from the bunker, Dean had time to think about the fight, and about every individual fault, he had made towards the angel. Everything he had done was wrong, sickening. The hunter had known Castiel leaving was his fault. Each part of Dean persuaded him to apologize to Castiel as soon as he had transformed back into an adult, but he couldn't believe it was something he would be able to do, Castiel deserved more than a plain sorry. Dean was controlled by rage, the emotion powering through his every decision. He hadn't been conscious of how to eradicate something that made him whole. It felt like he was being held back by an invisible force, his words shoving themselves back down his throat, the force threatening him to stay mute for the greater good, even when he had never asked to. 

After Castiel had woken up inside the bunker, Dean tried everything he could to appease him. He had done everything from bathing him to reading him stories to singing to him more, to giving him a new change of clothes so he felt more comfortable, to giving him food even when he hadn't needed it. The hunter had one last idea to comfort him, that was to groom his wings. Castiel had asked him to earlier when he had finished bathing him, Dean instantly accepting his request. As a child, Castiel was good, well mannered. He hardly asked for anything, he continued to give, and to listen. Castiel had been an angel for his long, expanding life, the traits he possessed as a child stemming from that.

In a matter of minutes, Dean had lead Castiel into his room to groom his wings, shutting the door behind them, a fresh towel in his grasp to wipe away stray water droplets from his wings. Upon entering the room, Castiel hadn't been able to bring his wings into their current plain no matter how long he had been attempting to, making it difficult for Dean to groom his wings. The image of them was clouded as they were unable to stay in one plain. One second he had seen the blurred image of them, the next he didn't. For the last few minutes, Dean had been encouraging the angel to make his wings stay in solid form, trying to get him to feel confident enough with his abilities to make him think he could overcome the impossible. 

"Cas, focus, you got this buddy. Just imagine your wings staying fixed in this plain. Imagine the sensations, sounds, and smells you feel in this room, try to guide your wings there." Dean hadn't been sure what he was doing, or what he was supposed to be doing. He wasn't sure how the angels taught him how to do it in heaven, or if they even taught him at all. From the things Castiel had mentioned about how he was raised in heaven, the only mentor he had was a brother that taught him the ways of battle, not how to fix his wings onto a certain plain. That was something that he had to figure out individually. The only thing Dean could have thought to say at that moment was a grounding technique he used on himself when he had felt hopeless, or close to a panic attack. Over the years, Dean had learned how to comfort himself, drinking being his main method of comfort, every emotion present in his heart drowning the poisonous whispers of the alcohol he had consumed. Every emotion drowned deep in bitter waves, every emotion pulled under except rage. His rage was filled with embers of those he had lost, the glow of the fire intense and unwavering. 

For the next few minutes, Dean had proceeded to give Castiel the encouragement he had deserved. His words were pure, words that Castiel wavered upon every time they hit his ears. Although it seemed like the angel hadn't been used to verbal encouragement, it had helped him reach his full potential with his wings. His wings were clear to Dean unlike they had been before. Seeing something more than a shadow or a clouded image amazed him, the hunter felt light knowing he wasn't going to be harmed at seeing the angel's wings. 

Dean gave Castiel a soothing grin to Castiel, showing he was proud of what he was able to achieve. For a moment, Dean had thought back to the people with white picket fences and flower gardens that they were protecting from harm, the people that had children, the ones they beamed at for asking out their crush or getting a good grade on an assignment, fondness masking their smiles. The only memories he had of a parent smiling at him like that was when he had obeyed orders, or when he had sacrificed everything he could to take care of his brother. Those were the only times he had remembered his father being proud of him, he hoped he could help Castiel feel that in a different way. Castiel stepped towards the bed Dean was currently sitting on, gazing up at the hunter, a puzzled look forming on his face as if he was asking what he should do next. Dean patted a spot in front of him on the bed, letting Castiel know he wanted him to sit there.

"Come sit Cas. Do you... need help getting up here?" Dean had noticed him struggling to get onto the bed because of his small form, and immobile wings. Castiel had been able to fly for a while, until the fall had occurred, his ability to fly being snatched away from him. People had thought the angels were meteors shooting down from the sky, yet it wasn't. The beings worshipped until the beginning of time fell from grace, losing everything that had made them holy. 

Dean took the initiative by changing his position on the bed so he was able to hoist Castiel's smaller form off of the floor, setting the angel in his lap. At seeing the marred state of Castiel's wings, the hunter had questioned why Castiel had entrusted him with touching his wings, much less preening them. Dean knew it was most likely due to how they had rescued him from the mad man that was his father or even did things like encourage him and take care of him. Piecing it all together, Dean could see where the trust came from, no matter what version of his best friend he was talking to.

Dean had made a move to massage Castiel's raven feathers, his hands lingering above the appendages, gradually lowering themselves down to the wings before coming to an abrupt halt at noticing the dire state Castiel's wings had been in. Dean had only brushed over the things he had noticed in Castiel's wings, concern coming in at full force at seeing the cleared image of his wings. Both of his wings had various bald patches on them, arrays of feathers missing, replacing their disappearance with pink patches, clusters of burn marks of several sizes were ingrained into several different places on his wings. Each feather on Castiel's wings was tainted to look like the midnight sky, every feather made to look identical until Dean had seen a small number of off-colored feathers stuck out from the blackness, adding large ivory stars to the eternal darkness. Milky feathers were found in a cluster of blackness, proving the angel's wings weren't formerly black. The hunter had been appalled at what he had seen with Castiel's wings yet attempted to turn a blind eye at the sight, his thoughts pounding against his skull in alarm, screaming at him that the burns were because Castiel rescued him from hell, the burns on his wings were his fault. As soon as Castiel had turned back into an adult, Dean vowed that he would apologize, no matter what was holding him back.

The hunter forcefully brought his gaze to Castel's battered wings, raking his hands through the dainty feathers, taking his mind off of the battle scars Castiel's wings had held, the lightened feathers one of the only traces of his old identity before his rebellion. Castiel hummed contently at the contact, not caring that his comfort was shown. The angel had known he was safe, even if it was only for a short time, he was going to enjoy it before he had to go back to heaven to train. He had recalled what Sam had said about Micheal being in the cage, but he still found the male's claim difficult to believe. Micheal was one of the most powerful warriors in heaven, the very angel that had trained him for all the time he had been in heaven, the angel that found it easy to beat anyone in a battle. 

"Cas?" Dean spoke up, attempting to ask the question he had wanted to ask ever since the angel had asked him to fix his wings. It was silent, Dean taking this as a sign to continue with what he had wanted to say. "Why do you trust me to touch your wings? I thought you didn't have feelings towards me or even Sam." Castiel gave Dean a tiny grin at hearing his question, dewy pools of azure-colored eyes stared into Dean's eyes, the angel changing his position so he was fully facing Dean. 

"Angels... bad. Father left, hurt me. Human's good. You good Dean." Castiel rewarded Dean with another smile, feeling confident that it was allowed. He had felt comfortable with Sam and Dean, more comfortable than he ever did in heaven. Unlike in heaven, he currently was rewarded with love when with the humans, the angel's having no concept of the subject. Emotions such as love were something they had never been aware of. The longer Castiel had stayed with the brothers, the more he had learned about the wonders of humanity, more than he had learned when being around the prophets. 

At hearing the angel's answer, a vast array of emotions flowed through Dean's eyes, the words healing the doubts in his heart, helping him regain the confidence he needed. Dean's voice shook as he spoke, pulling Castiel into his arms, whispering into his hair, "Thank you Cas." 

After a month, what the brothers were expecting finally happened. From Castiel's bedroom, there was a flash of pale light and a dull thud. Besides Castiel, Dean was alone in the bunker, Sam had been at the grocery store stocking up on supplies. Upon hearing the thud, Dean grabbed the nearest weapon he could find, gradually walking towards the room, freezing at what he saw there. 

"Cas?" He muttered, dropping his weapon on the floor in pure shock at seeing his best friend back to normal after noticing that he was wearing the same clothes he had on his younger vessel on his adult one. Castiel stared up at Dean with clueless eyes, shakily standing and stepping towards Dean. "Dean? what happened?" A relieved grin made its way onto Dean's face, the hunter pulled the shorter man into his arms, warmth radiating from his hold. "I'll explain later, I missed you, man." Castiel leaned into the male's grasp, hesitance came over him before hugging the male back, deciding to pull away from the male's touch a few seconds later. 

"Cas, man, I just.. I'm sorry. I've been wanting to say it for so long, I just didn't have it in me to say it, and I know you deserve better than that. When mom died, it felt like I didn't have anyone to go to about it, and I had this rage come over me, and I couldn't stop it. No matter how much I try I can't make it stop. I didn't wanna get mad at you, and I didn't wanna push you away. Over the past eleven years, I've been a real dick to you man. You've sacrificed everything for me and Sam whenever you could, but I never did the same for you. When we first met, all I did was call on you when I needed you, and even went as far as to treat you like the bad guy when you pulled me out of hell. Cas, you deserve so much better than I give you and I'm sorry I've always been so blinded by the problems I had that I was never able to be the friend, be the brother you deserved. And Cas, I forgive you, of course, I do, I just wasn't able to say it until now, and man, I'm so sorry for that, I hope you can forgive me too." 

Castiel relaxed at upon hearing the hunter's apology, a small smile graced his lips at hearing it. "Dean, I need to show you something, can you turn around?" Dean followed Castiel's command by turning around, puzzled as to what he would be seeing. When his back was turned, a laminating light came through the room followed by buzzing then silence. "You can look now." Dean gradually turned his body around, trying to contain his shock that Castiel would show him his wings. In his child form, he had his wings out because he didn't know how to put them back, now Castiel was choosing to show him his wings even when they were put back in the correct plain when he had transformed back into an adult. 

Castiel grabbed onto Dean's right hand tenderly, guiding it to touch his bandaged left wing. "Dean, do you know how my wings became this color?" He had let go of his hand when it was caressing his wing, the feathers tickling his fingertips. Dean had known the answer to his question, but stayed quiet, waiting for Castiel to answer the question as he was too ashamed to, no words came from his mouth. "My wings became this color because of how I rescued you from perdition. I wasn't supposed to rescue you, but I did it to defy heaven's hope to start the apocalypse, to become something more than an obedient soldier. The higher up angel's had debated on rescuing you from perdition because you were Micheal's true vessel but they had known that you would never say yes to him which led the angels to leave you to rot there, deciding to get your brother Adam to say yes instead. When I was a fledgling under the forceful training of Micheal, I had heard about his plan of the apocalypse, his only goal being to wipe out all of humanity. I didn't want it to happen because even though I despise my father now, I admire every one of his creations, my favorite being humanity. All the other angels could only see the flaws in humanity which is why they wanted to start the apocalypse. I knew you would help me stop it, which is why I risked the condition of my wings by rescuing you from the fiery depths of perdition. I know if I hadn't rescued you, I would have continued to be the black sheep among all the white ones. In my time in heaven, I knew I was different from all my siblings, that difference was something that caused me to become punished often by my brother, and to become molded into something I wasn't. I had gotten out of that mold when I rescued you from perdition. When the other angels had found out I rescued you, they had tried to use you. I had never let them through, I felt as if it was my job to protect you, these scars are a symbol of that." Castiel touched the hand on his wing, giving a warm smile to Dean. "Dean, thank you for apologizing, but unfortunately, I cannot forgive you just yet. I need time. I appreciate your words, and I appreciate our friendship and the things you have taught me about free will. From the times I had rescued you and Sam from perdition, my wings were scarred beyond compare, but fortunately able to still fly up until the fall. Seeing the discoloration and scars on my wings made me realized that I am closer to achieving true freedom than I was yesterday, or even the day before. Thank you for being here, Dean Winchester."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


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